#i think i said this on almost every blog i owned here so far | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

sincerelyneo · 1 month

Note

will you be reposting the jeno fic you had on your old blog? it was my fave 🥺

here it is <3

fireproof | l.jn

“‘cause no body saves me baby the way you do”

💿now playing: fireproof by one direction

❯ summary: Your brother Jaemin loves throwing parties when your parents aren’t home — but you hate it. In an attempt to escape the loud music and sweaty bodies you try and head out. But there’s no way your brother’s best friend, Jeno, is letting you wander around the streets so late.

❯ pairings: jeno x fem!reader

❯ genre: smut, brother’s best friend, college!au

❯ words: 8.4k

❯ tags: 18+ minors dni!, smut, masturbation, minor mentions of drug use, drinking, marking, slight protective brother jaemin, begging, spanking, mentions of marking, unprotected sex (don't do this!), oral sex (m/f receiving), fingering, reader uses she/her pronouns, jeno fucks his best friend’s little sister.

a/n: i changed the title hehehe

This party fucking sucks.

You’re not even drunk. The vodka is watered down, you're sure of it. Your friends ditched you about half an hour ago — disappearing with some of the guys they had been speaking to and seeing.

"Come to the party with us, they said." You mimic to yourself into your plastic cup. "It'll be fun, they said."

You scoff taking another swig but pull your face at the awful taste that lingers in your mouth. There are better things you could be doing on a Saturday night, you think. You’re almost positive you saw a new show released on Netflix today. Or better yet, you could be reading some sort of erotic novel that would spice up your Saturday night more than this shit.

But the thing is, this party is at your own fucking house.

Your brother is throwing it.

Every time your parents go away for one weekend he can’t help but jump at the opportunity to trash the place. You don't see why he can't just have a few of the boys around, have some beers and then call it a night. But no, that isn't exactly Jaemin’s style.

Of course, he has to invite a bunch of random weirdos that seem to be snorting cocaine off of every surface in this house, and smoking whatever kind of weed they could find. And sure, you’re not impartial to a good night but this... this is not your idea of a good night.

At all.

Sighing, you push through the masses of people, seeing the sweaty bodies that are dry humping one another or eating each other's faces off so much you feel like you’re going to throw up at the sight.

Stopping in your tracks, you reach into the back pocket of your denim jeans to pull out your phone, seeing that it is half-past midnight. If you know Jaemin — and you did — this was only the beginning of the night. The party is definitely far from over.

Fuck sake.

You put your phone back in your pocket and continue to manoeuvre around the bodies in the hallway. Your stomach growls and you think about how you're drinking on an empty stomach. The only thing open at this time is a Mcdonald's but you don't necessarily want to be that person that sits in McDonald's by themselves on a Saturday night.

Still, you head for your front door and try your luck at an escape. As you reach your hand out to grab the door handle you smash headfirst into a body. Well to be more specific a chest. A hard chest.

"Ow, fuck!" You lift your hand up, rubbing your forehead.

"Sorry little Na, didn't see you there." You immediately recognise that voice. The deep slowness in which he talks. It’s the only voice that has a straight hotline to your core.

Yeah, you couldn't ever forget that voice.

You stop rubbing your head and slowly look up, following the lines of his muscled chest that you can see through the tight white t-shirt he's wearing with a pair of denim jeans and converse. Yes you had already checked him out tonight, but you’re only human. And when your eyes meet that sharp jawline, hollowed-out cheekbones and those damming brown eyes, you involuntarily clench your thighs together.

You shun yourself because you know you can’t have him. And that’s the reason why you hate him.

He's your brother’s best friend.

Lee fucking Jeno.

The worst man on this planet. for many reasons like for one he’s insanely hot. Like too hot. Who on this planet even needs to be that hot? But to make it worse he knows he's hot. Girls are always flying off his arm fueling his ego. He's also selfish and arrogant.

But the reason you hate him the most, the reason you despise him so much, and avoid him at all costs is because of the burning need — it's past being a want it's a fucking need — to just devour him. Every part of you screams out whenever he is in the same room.

And you hate it.

You have zero control over your words and actions with him — and he knows it with how much you’ve embarrassed yourself in front of him over the years. Your cheeks tend to grow red without your permission, and oh does he love to point that out.

Ever since your brother brought him home in his first year of high school, they have been inseparable — and you’ve been madly in love.

Well, you’re not in love with the boy. You just, you know, want to rip his clothes off. And let him fuck the living daylights out of you.

"Aw, there they are." He distracts you from your thoughts.

His eyes are burning straight through you. As if he can tell what you’re thinking, how you’re feeling. And right now, you have very infuriating dampness in your panties that wasn't there 30 seconds ago.

"Those rosy cheeks, are they for me, little Na?" You swat his hand away as it attempts to reach up to caress your cheek or some stupid shit like that.

"Stop that Jeno!” You snap at him, getting angry is your default with him.

It the perfect remedy to keep him away from you, so you don't do something stupid like fuck your brother’s best friend

“Please just get out my way.”

"Such a pleasant girl, aren't you?" He winks.

He fucking winks, and your pussy screams in delight. If you were any other girl, you’d be swooning right now. You’d be on your knees begging for it.

Well, you won't be on your knees for him.

Ever.

Especially not tonight.

"Just get out of my way, Jeno,” you push him rather hard.

You knew it wouldn't make him budge if he didn't want it too but he dramatically moved out of your way of the door. You yank it open and dart through onto the front lawn. Halfway down the driveway, a sharp tug on your arm spins you around and you’re faced with Jeno... again.

"Fuck sake, what do you want?" You shake your arm out of his grip but he doesn't let go.

You give up, huffing and dropping your shoulders. The two of you are just staring at each other, so much so that you didn't even realise how close you really were. Your chests are almost touching, there is a hair width between you. And due to your height, if you looked forwards you’d be looking at the bottom of his neck, right where you see him gulp before meeting your eyes again. They seem to burn into yours, suddenly growing intense.

He is the first to look away but he doesn't just look away, no. You watch as his eyes flash down to your lips. Your breath hitches, he sees that and when he looks back to your eyes again, he flashes you a knowing smirk.

Motherfucker.

"Come back inside." He says as he throws his head to the side, signalling to your house.

"No," you all but stomp your foot.

"You're such a fucking brat, you know that right?" He growls, closing that gap so that your chests touch. There’s an electricity running through you, begging for him.

"I'm not a fucking brat, I just don't want to be here at this shitty party!”

You don't break his eye contact, chests still touching. He can sure as hell feel each heavy breath you take and probably every beat of your heart that seems to have sped up since he moved closer.

"Just go inside, go to your room, anything. Just don't fucking leave, your brother would have my balls if I let you go out alone this late at night.”

You roll your eyes at the mention of your brother. You love him, you really do, but hearing the word brother leaves Jeno’s lips reminds you exactly why he’s even here.

It’s not for you — it’s for Jaemin’s sake.

"I don't see why either of you care, you've got plenty of booze and girls to keep you occupied to not even notice me gone,” you stand your ground, trying to tug your arm once again but he still won't let go.

However, he has loosened his grip so it isn't so harsh, but it's still locked around your wrist. In fact, you’re sure you feel him drawing little circles on the inner skin with his thumb and that thought alone has you squirming no matter how much you try to ignore it.

"I think I'd always notice when you're not there," Jeno says under his breath, his face lowering to yours.

If you didn't know better then you’d think he was about to kiss you. But that can't happen. Can it?

Everything but your core is saying no. Your whole body is screaming to open up your mouth and say please. But you ignore it — you always do— and try to keep a brave face. But as he gets so close, too close, your eyes automatically flutter shut.

You expect his lips to graze yours but they don't, instead, you feel his cheek against you , only faintly, as his lips skim your ear lobe.

"I think I'd always notice when you're not there because there won't be some childish little brat moaning about not getting her own way."

Your eyes shoot open as he pulls back, laughing at your flushing cheeks. Your eyes narrow as you finally tug your arm hard enough this time that he has no choice but to release you.

"I do not moan about not getting my own way and I am not childish nor a brat,” you sneer at him.

"Sure,-" he huffs, laughing, crossing his arms over his chest. "Whatever you say."

"Why can’t you just go inside and leave me alone,” you cross your own arms over your chest.

"No can do." He stands there like some sort of bouncer, you look to your right and see the path only a few steps away. He watches you and says a low, demanding, "Don't."

But you do it.

You spin on your heel and run for it. But you only make it two steps before two large arms are wrapped around your waist from behind and you’re being sprung back into a hard chest. Jeno’s one arm sits tightly around your waist, his fingers digging into your hip and you squirm against him. To stop your wriggling, his other hand flies up to grab a hold of your throat, tilting your head back to the rest of his shoulder.

His eyes flash to his hand around your neck and he takes a deep breath that causes his eyes to flutter shut. Then you feel something growing behind you causing your own eyes to grow wide. He leans forward, lips skimming yours barely.

“I said don't." It sounded more like a growl than anything and a small whimper escaped your lips. "Are you going to walk inside or am I going to have to carry you?" He whispers still close to your mouth. If you lifted your head slightly, you’d be kissing.

"I'm not going back inside." You sternly reply, he just laughs and his hold loosens on you.

But he doesn’t free you. Instead he throws you clean over his shoulder in a fireman's lift.

“Put. Me. Down. Jeno." You scream, hitting his back, but he doesn't listen. Carrying on heading back inside your house.

Your cheeks are bright red and you stop your attack on Jeno’s back and decide to clench his shirt in your fists and hide your face in it.

"What's going on here?" You hear Jaemin’s voice and your head flies up.

"Your sister tried to escape," Jeno says laughing, bending down to lower you to the ground.

When he stood back up, you were so close your bodies touched again, your breasts rubbed against his firm chest and your nipples stiffened. His eyes glanced down to them and they darken, then he looks to you again and grabs your shoulders, spinning you around to face your brother. You automatically lifted your arms up and over your breasts to cover the obvious arousal.

"Come on Y/N, you know you can't be walking around aimlessly at night." Jaemin chastises you.

"I'm not a child Jaem," you roll your eyes with a shake of your head.

"So what? Grown ass people still get kidnapped!”

You groan, I'm going to my room."

You push past him and head towards the stairs. You turn around seeing Jeno’s smug face knowing he’s got his own way about you coming back inside.

But you won’t give him the satisfaction. You’ll just sneak out the window and have your perfect escape. He won't know.

Not like he’ll come to check — right?

You spin on your heel as you hear the sound of footsteps following behind you. Jeno’s there, eyes locked on your ass until he sees you looking back down at him and then cocks his head to the side and smiles innocently.

“What are you doing?” You spit.

"Just making sure you actually do go to your room." He flashes his infamous eye smile that has plagued your dreams since you first met him. "And that your windows are locked. Don't want you running away now do we?" he winks at you.

He’s so irritating!

With a huff, you turn around and storm your way up the last couple of stairs, making sure your stomps are extra loud. You can just hear Jeno snickering behind you and that only rattles you even more. When you reach the landing you turn immediately and head to the last door of the hallway and pull it open, stepping inside of your bedroom. You go to slam the door shut but a sneaker covered foot stops in between preventing it.

You immediately roll your eyes and groan.

"Leave me alone Jeno." You groan, leaning up against the door with your back, pushing it.

"Let me check your windows then I'll leave."

"What kind of request is that?” You sigh, running a hand through your hair.

"Just let me."

"No."

The two of you enter a stare off — one you both know he’s going to win. And he does, because you don’t even let two whole minutes pass before you’re huffing out a “Fine.”

He makes his way over to your window, making sure it's locked, then he chuckles, drawing your curtains too. The only thing lightening the room was your bedside lamp that you had an awful habit of leaving on. That, and it was the perfect deterrent to make it look like someone was in there, keeping strangers from having sex on your bed.

“All done?” You ask, breathy.

He smirks, his eyes flashing to your lips again and you swear to god if he does that one more time you’re either going to kick him in the balls or jump on him and kiss him.

You force yourself to take a step back and take a deep breath which makes him laugh.

"Well goodnight little Na, don't go sneaking out because I will know about it." He walks off to the door and before he exits you say,

"And how would you possibly know that?"

He looks over his shoulder, his eyes flash up and down your body, "I just will,” he winks then closes the door behind him.

You huff out and stomp your foot like a child. God you needed to grow a backbone and stop letting that idiot mess with you.

Storming into your bathroom you slam the door shut. You strip off your clothes and turn on the shower. Whilst waiting for it to get up to temperature, you sigh.

"Let me just lock your windows for ya." You pull a face copying him. "Want me to check that for ya?"

Once you’re done in the shower you climb out of it and dry yourself with a towel.

"He's so fucking annoying ugh," you say to yourself as you pull the bathroom door open and saunter into your bedroom naked.

You don't even check to see if anyone was in there, too busy ranting about him. And when you feel the cold draft of your bedroom it makes you realise you had just walked into your unlocked bedroom naked. Immediately, you covered your body remembering the party going on downstairs; but on first glance, it appeared no one was in there. Still you quickly grab your oversized grey t-shirt from the end of your bed, throwing it on over your head, but skipping your underwear.

Your room was fairly simple with white furniture, a wooden floor, soft pink bedding, a few cuddly toys. The bed lies against the far wall, opposite the door and you leave your lamp on to have a little bit of light to help you sleep.

Trying to fall asleep you flip over so your back faces the light. You try a few different sleep scenarios but everything keeps going back to Jeno.

And the way his hand gripped around your neck.

You flip over again, keeping your eyes shut, yet, Jeno just waltzes into your mind continuously. Like he won't leave you alone. You feel so much anger coursing through your blood, yet you have this strange pulling into your core.

You need to give attention to it — so you do. And as soon as you slip your hand under the covers, the fantasies start rolling in. Jeno’s arms around you, grabbing at your waist, your hips, your ass, your breasts.

Your breath hitches.

His tongue in your mouth, along your skin, tracing your neck and stomach, then between your folds lapping at you. Your eyes shoot open as you clench your thighs together and immediately feel the wetness.

It was just too much to ignore. This wasn’t going away. You already knew that.

You just needed some relief and then you’ll be free for the night. Jeno never needs to know and it’s not like you haven’t done this exact same thing before over him.

Your right hand finds your centre first, sliding between the folds and instantly feeling the slick wetness there. Slowly and sensually, you begin moving your fingers in a circular motion. Eyes closing instantly, flashes of Jeno now being played before you.

In your mind, it was no longer your hand but his. Rubbing your clit, sending shivers down your spine and causing a small panting moan to escape you.

Your left hand begins clutching at the sheets and as you feel your nipples peak and rub against the soft material of your shirt, you have no choice but to swiftly move your hand up and under to take hold of your own breasts and squeeze. You moan again as you begin to work your fingers faster over your clit.

Now in your head, Jeno stood before you shirtless. Seeing the ripples in the muscles of his abs, he flexes his arms, making you grow weaker. But you always felt like this whenever you saw him shirtless at the pool, or the beach.

And you couldn't deny how fucking sexy he was — you wouldn’t?”

"What’re you thinking about?"

You pause instantly, back arched, orgasm growing close and eyes squeezed shut. You can't decipher whether that voice was in your head or in real life so you just grow still and relax, trying to pretend it didn’t happen.

Your breathing which was already heavy, grows even more so, this time with panic and worry. You don't want to open your eyes, scared of what you might see because you recognised that voice.

At least, you’re really fucking hoping Jeno’s voice is all in your head, because you’re seconds away from orgasm.

"I asked you a question."

Your eyes fly open. He’s definitely not in your head.

Ripping your hand away from your clit, you pull the other away from your nipple and force yourself into a seated position with your hands splayed behind to hold you up. You scream on instinct, he doesn't so much as flinch as he stands at the end of your bed.

His eyes are dark, head low and looking up at you through his lashes. He has that smirk on his face, and his hands are fidgeting, rolling his fingers against his palm. Your eyes roam his body as your scream continues and you wish you hadn't, only because your scream turned into a moan as you spied his hard erection pushing against his jeans.

You gasp and look back at his face.

"What're you doing Jeno?" You whisper-shout, even though the party downstairs would make it difficult for anyone to hear you anyway.

Still, you didn’t want any party goers walking in on a flustered you in bed with Jeno and his very large, very prominent erection, standing at the base.

Fuck. It's so big. You can tell from how it's breaking at the seams of his jeans to be let free. Your mouth waters at the sheer thought of his dick — wondering what it looks like, how it feels in your hands, in your mouth — how it tastes.

Fuck no. Absolutely not.

You shake your head, trying to rid the thoughts and ignore the fact your core is pulsing right now, begging for one last touch so you can explode into orgasm. You really fucking needed it.

"I asked you what you were thinking about?" He says lowly, and it causes your breathing to still.

“H-how long have you been standing there?" You whimper.

He shrugs, “That doesn't matter, what does matter is-" he moves his head up, looking you dead in the eyes as he cracks his neck and then his fists in each hand. "-What you were thinking about whilst touching yourself? Was it me?"

He smirks again and you stood up, throwing the duvet off of your legs.

"Not a chance," He says sternly. You look at him again, face paling.

"What do you mean, no?" you ask, cocking your head.

"I mean don't you fucking move-" His tongue came out to lap at his bottom lip as his eyes moved down your body, down your legs.

You instantly went to grab the duvet again but he grabbed it first, ripping it from the bed and throwing it across the room. You get down on all fours, crawling to try and get it before him.

"Jeno!" You exclaim, reaching your hand out for it but it was too far away. You look up at him on all fours, and from this angle... God. You gulp.

"Give me my cover."

You try to wash away every fantasy of being in this position before him but you can't ignore the way you need his hard cock, seeping at the tip and begging for you to lick it, to suck it.

Stop. No. Not now.

His hand comes to the side of your face, pushing a piece of your hair behind your ear and you shiver at the touch.

"Lie. Back. On. The. Bed." He commands.

Your eyes flutter shut for a moment and then slowly, you move to follow his command until you are back down on the bed. You keep your legs closed and hands on your stomach.

You weren’t sure why you’re listening to him — obeying him . But something in you, some instinct is just screaming at you to let this play out, see what he wants.

"Touch yourself." He says and you blanch, your eyes growing wide and you sit up again, but one stern look from him has you lying back down again. "Touch yourself and tell me what you think of, how you feel, tell me everything Y/N."

Your name. He never bothers to call you that. Usually emphasising how you’re his best friend’s little sister with the nickname he’d given you. But honestly, you’re thankful for the nickname because hearing your actual name from his lips, all nasally and sensual, sends you spiralling.

It makes you putty in his hands. And as for your hands? Well, they slowly spread your legs wide revealing your soaking wet cunt to him. You keep your eyes pierced on him, watching how his breath hitches, eyes glued to you. The way he automatically grabs his cock through his jeans and squeezes is like a reflex. Closing his eyes only briefly before they're back on you, on your core.

You feel yourself growing red, the heat of embarrassment consuming you whole as you slide your hand down your stomach. As soon as your fingers make contact with your clit, your hips are bucking off of the bed and your back starts to curve. Building up your arousal doesn't take long. You were already half there, teetering on the edge.

Except this time your eyes lock onto Jeno’s for real whilst your fingers are moving, soft moans leaving your lips. You spy his own hand on his cock, he hasn't pulled it free but he moves his hand back and forth over his shaft. You can see the way his arms tense as he moves and watches you.

You throw your head back with another moan. Seeing him stood there isn't enough, you need something more. You need him climbing on top of you, replacing your fingers with his. His hot breath against your neck as he rubs you harder and faster.

"What are you thinking about?"

"You." You say breathily.

"What about me?"

Your eyes shoot open to stare at him, he looks tense and flustered. Just as bad as you. His hand stops moving on his cock and you make a mental note that he might've been close. Too close. And this might be over too soon.

"Your fingers on my clit, rubbing me," you throw your head back as the fantasy flashes again.

"Yes, and what else?" He growls.

"Your mouth." You breathe again.

"My mouth, huh?" He bites and your fantasy continues.

"Yes. Everywhere." You cry out, orgasm seconds away. "Your mouth on me, about to- God, Jeno I'm gonna cum,” your back arches, hips bucking, fingers moving so fast and rough.

"Look at me." Your eyes fly open at the command. "I want you to cum whilst looking at me."

And you do. The sheer dominance radiating off of him is the final straw that has you crashing down.

Your orgasm rips through you as your hips lift so far off the bed. You moved your fingers through your orgasm, riding it out but finally, your hips fell back to the bed and you let out a heavy breath.

Before you could even open your eyes again, you felt two large arms wrap under your thighs gripping your hips, and suddenly you’re yanked to the end of the bed. Your eyes snap open, and your head lifts up as you spy Jeno on his knees at the end of the bed, his mouth centimetres from your dripping pussy.

"J-Jeno,” you mumble, just the sight of him has you moaning.

You’re not sure if getting yourself off in front of him was the moment you both decided to cross the line; but now him manoeuvring between your legs, you knew you definitely had. Regardless, you know now you aren't ever going back to the dynamic you had before.

"I’m gonna make those fantasies come to life baby.”

He doesn't miss a beat. His tongue comes out and swipes a long lick up and through your folds. All common sense leaves your head as you fall back against the bed.

"God, you taste so good. I fucking knew you would."

He’s thought about this? You know you have.

He repeats the motion again, this time focusing on your clit, making sure to run a smooth stripe along it, circling it only slightly, enough to have you wriggling. One of his hands splays over your stomach, holding your hips down.

"I want you to cum on my tongue. I want to taste every drop of you,” you gulp, looking down at him between your thighs. You don't miss the dark pupils in his eyes and that daring look, the one telling you to follow his instructions.

"Jeno, oh my god,” you cry out, your head flying back as his mouth attacks your clit. He sucks it in, flicking his tongue all over in a frenzied motion.

You know he knows all the right ways to make a girl squirm. And you are fucking squirming. All over the fucking bed, you’d be breaking free from him if he didn't have his large veined hand holding your stomach down. Your stomach is now on show. Your t-shirt has risen up to just below your breasts and you see the way his eyes watch the movement as you move about, tits bouncing around.

And as if he can hear your thoughts he says,

"Take your top off."

You do it without question, lifting the hem and throwing it over your head. Now you’re laying there completely naked. His hand that was on your stomach comes up and takes hold of one breast, instantly taking your nipple between his fingers and you hear him, no you feel him, moan into your pussy.

The vibrations cause you to cry out, hands knuckling the bed sheets.

"You're so fucking hot Y/N, God." He murmurs before attacking you again, his mouth working wonders.

And that tongue. You’re so close. You can feel it.

Then you feel as he slides two fingers into you. Jeno curls his fingers inside of you, hitting some sort of sensitive spot, and as soon as his fingers massage that area inside you and his mouth returns to your clit, you explode.

You don't even know if the music downstairs would cover your screams as you fell into ecstasy. His hand on your breast doesn’t move, but the one that had been hooked on your hip moves to splay against your stomach holding you down as he laps at you, riding you through your second orgasm until you couldn’t take it anymore. He pulls his fingers out, then his mouth away from you at just the right time.

You lay there spent. Completely.

Eyes fluttering open. Jeno stood between your legs looking down at you. His cock looked painful in his jeans. You had once felt exhausted and ready to fall asleep but as soon as you saw his erection you shot up in your seat. You immediately fumble with his jeans until his hand comes to your jaw, pulling your head up to look into his eyes. He stares for a moment before blinking, taking a deep breath.

"You don't have to- I didn't do that for you to-"

"I want to. I want this." You nod eagerly,"I want you.”

You lick your lips and it's as if something snaps in him, that moment of care vanishes and he lets go of your chin.

"Well then, suck my cock,” he says, standing there and you do as you’re told.

You unfasten his jeans, pull them down and then his underwear. His large erect cock springs free instantly and without a second thought you take hold of him in your hand. Your hands look tiny against his dick.

You move your hand slowly up and down his cock, and notice how his thighs tense, then his stomach and you follow your eyes up until you meet his face. His head is hung low, eyes dark and hands clenched by his sides. Keeping your eyes on his, you lean forward and spy the precum, flicking your tongue out and taking it in to swallow down with a moan that makes him grunt.

You moved so that your face was closer to his balls, then you stroked your tongue all along his length, and felt the way he flexed beneath your muscle. There’s a cocky smirk covering your face when you move back to the top and suck his tip into your mouth.

"Do you like sucking my cock?" He asks, his hand threading into your hair to start pulling on the roots to yank your head backwards.

"Do you like it when I suck your cock, Jeno?" You flip the question with a smile the power in your hands. You continue working him and he flexes his hand in your hair.

"That's how you wanna play?" He grins at you.

You pretend to think for a moment, "I’m not playing anything." You move your head closer down his length, licking another long stripe hearing how he curses under his breath and thrusts his hips towards you. "I just want to suck your cock."

With that, you take him into your mouth, sliding down until you reach your limit. You can't take him whole, he’s way too big for that, but you take what you can. He coughs and splutters a bunch of inaudible words, but you just pull back up and repeat the motion, continuing to take him back into your throat.

His hand stays threaded in your hair, keeping a rough hold so that you can't pull away — not that you wanted to.

You love every second. Even as you feel him tensing, his hips moving as he thrusts into your mouth. You look up through your lashes to see his head thrown back as he moans out and hisses every so often when you drag your teeth along his cock. You can tell he likes it as the precum coats your tongue. That and the way he doesn't tell you to stop.

"Do. That. Again."

And you do, watching his head fall forwards."Such a pretty sight, my cock filling your mouth. What do you think your brother would think about this?" he smirks and your face falls pale.

You almost stop sucking his dick but he doesn't let you, slamming his hips forwards so his cock hits the back of your throat.

Your brother.

Not a thought you want to think about right now but it is something you needed to consider. This was his best friend. You’d finally gotten the man so forbidden, always out of bounds. The whole time you didn’t know that he wanted you as much as you wanted him.

You moan uncontrollably, and it must send vibrations along his cock as you feel it twitch in your mouth, his thrusts become sloppy and his grip on your hand grows tighter.

"Fuck, Y/N, I'm gonna cum." He grits out. "Are you gonna let me cum in that pretty mouth of yours?"

You look up at him. You can't speak so you try to nod.

"God, you’ve always been the death of me," He thrusts several more times as you slide your tongue all over his length and tip.

You do it a final time as you take him to the back of your throat, gliding your teeth along him which must've been his undoing as you felt the hot steaming cum splatter against the back of your throat.

You pulled him out your mouth slowly. Even as he is softening he is still thick and large. You kitten lick the tip as he hisses, causing him to loosen his grip in your hair and you sit back, making sure to obviously gulp so he knows you swallowed every last drop of him. Leaning forwards, his hand comes to your chin and he moves his mouth so close to your you think he might kiss you but instead he says,

"Good girl."

You hate the way those two words made you clench your thighs together. You thought the two orgasms were enough but no, you’re ready for more. You need more.

He’s quick to remove his shirt, and as he lifts his arms his abs flex. You are point-blank gawking at him standing before you, making him smirk.

That snaps you out of it. Remembering you are sitting here, soaking wet and naked before him. You crawl back on the bed and then realise you have no duvet so you have to pull your knees to your chest and cross your arms over your knees to cover yourself.

He watches you, laughs and then shakes his head. He then moves, shoving off his jeans and underwear the rest of the way off until they both land on the floor.

"Wh-What are you doing?" You ask stuttering, thinking he should actually be getting dressed to leave.

"What do you think I'm doing?" he asks.

Can't he ever just give you a simple answer?

Then you notice how his cock has sprung to life again and his hand moves to touch it. Moving up and down the length as he cracks his neck.

"You're h-hard again?" You stutter, eyes glued to the impressive size of him.

"I'm always hard for you baby." He winks and for once, it didn't make you want to punch him.

"Jeno, we can't." You shake your head.

You’re already way past the line. Sex would destroy the whole scale. Still, the idea of him, his cock inside of you, whispering filthy things in your ear... it isn't something you can ignore.

"You want it." He says point blankly.

You gulp and remain silent. He moves onto the bed, kneeling and then crawls towards you until he is over you. His hair has fallen over his eyes — so fucking hot. "I know you want it, why try to deny it?" He cocks his head to the side, smugly.

"I-I'm not." You fidget.

“Yes, you are." He ducks his head low, burying it in your neck. You feel his warm breath and your heartbeat rackets so loud. "You don't want to want me to fuck you,” His teeth graze your neck, sending you into a panting mess as he sucks and bites.

He then pulls away and laps at the mark you know is there, the one he put there as a reminder tomorrow when you come to your senses that you did this.

"So I’ll ask again. What do you want?" He looks down at you, plump pink lips swollen and wet from his constant licking and biting them.

You’re going to let your brothers best friend fuck you. And you’re going to love every second of it.

Not wasting another moment longer to think, you grab hold of his neck and lift your head whilst pulling him to you to smash your lips together. There’s heat, fire, and explosions of electricity.

Your hands claw at his neck, his back, his sides. Anything to pull him closer. His crotch, his hard cock, grinds against your soaking hole and you groan out whilst continuing to kiss him. Both so desperate for each other. His hands skim down your body, kneading your breasts, your hips. He grabs hold of anywhere and everywhere.

His lips detach from yours, giving you a moment to see how swollen they are before they're attacking your neck. He peppers kisses along your jaw, not sweet kisses but hard and sloppy kisses. Sucking and biting the skin causing your back to arch into his chest, pushing your breasts against him, making him moan. He thrusts his hips forwards, his cock sliding between your folds, hitting against your clit making you quiver.

"Fuck, we really shouldn't be doing this." He continues kissing you down your neck, reaching your collar bones that he also decides to leave marks on.

"Jeno please," you cry out. Both of his hands move to your hips to hold you still.

"Please what baby?" He smirks before moving lower to take one of your nipples into his mouth.

"Fuck Jeno,” you cry out as he flicks his tongue over the bud, biting it harshly so you cry out again then soothing it with a soft warm suck.

"Please what baby?" He repeats.

"Fuck me. Now!”

"And what about your brother?" he brings him up again and you roll your eyes.

"Stop bringing him up," You moan as he takes your other nipple into his mouth, repeating the process.

"He'll kill us if he finds out." he grins.

"Then he can't find out," You pant out of breath as Jeno moves.

His face is so close to yours that your lips are only just touching, his chest is pushed against you and his cock sits lodged between your folds. You try to shift to gain some friction against your clit but his grip holds you still. His eyes flicker across your face then he says,

"I won't tell if you won't?" His lips caress yours in the faintest of movements. You flick your tongue out to wet your lips, but in the process he bites onto your muscle making you wince then moan, "What do you think, huh?”

There’s no room for discussion — your body won’t let you.

"I won't tell if you won't."

He doesn't miss a beat once he gets your approval. His lips are on yours as his hips thrust forwards. His cock thrusting inside of you, tearing you open as you pull your mouth away to cry out.

"Holy fuck."

He stills once inside you, making sure to push as far as possible until his pelvis meets your skin. Your legs wrap around his waist instantly.

"You feel so fucking good." He breaks from your kiss to breathe. "I always knew you would but this-" he looks down to where you are connected and he thrusts further, trying to get deeper but he can't possibly. "-this is better than anything I could've imagined."

"Move, please." You grunt trying to lift your hips to encourage some movement. His eyes fly open, dark and daring.

"Beg me." He smirks and does a tiny thrust, a teasing thrust.

"Fuck off,” you pant, trying to do it yourself but he uses his hips to pin you to the bed.

"Beg." He smiles and cocks his head to one side. "Me."

You hated his arrogance. But fuck, you want him so bad. So badly that you will beg.

"Please fuck me, Jeno." He pulls out of you and you suck in a deep breath.

"Again." He grins now.

You can't bear to look at him but looking down means watching as he holds just the tip inside of me.

"Please. Fuck. Me." You pant, half moaning, begging for him.

He thrusts so hard into you, you wince and moan out in pleasure. He hit so deep inside that you’re sure you’ll bruise.

"Anything for you, Y/N,” he whispers in your ear before sucking and biting on the lobe.

Then he's pulling out and thrusting into you. Again. And again. And again. Harder and harder each time. Faster and faster. You lose your breath, becoming a big ball of pants and moans — just like Jeno.

God, the sounds he makes. You’ve never heard someone so vocal before, but fuck it's hot. The small grunts he makes when he fucks you, the groans when you clench around his cock and feel yourself building. He moves his hands under your ass to lift it, plummeting into you from a new angle, going so much deeper.

"Your pussy is so tight. Fuck,” He says between thrusts, and gritted teeth.

He seems to have found a weak spot right under your ear that has you clenching like mad around his cock. And he loves it.

"How have you just been there in front of me this whole time? How have I stayed away from you?" He seems to be asking himself because he doesn’t press you for a reply.

He removes his lips from your neck and sits back on his heels, his cock still inside of you, slowing his thrusts and he lifts your legs up, moving them over his shoulders. His head moves from side to side, placing a soft kiss on each ankle and for one second. You’re dumbfounded as he looks at you, a daring smirk written across his face.

He wraps his arms around your thighs, locking your legs in a straight position against his chest on either side of his head, and then he begins pounding into you again. However this time, he moves one of his hands to your centre, his thumb moving closer to your clit. You feel how it grazes your nerves. He strums it once. Twice. Three times then you're wriggling around like a mess, back arching off as your orgasm tears through your body and you explode into euphoria. Again.

He rides you through it, fucking you as you clench and squeeze around him. A string of curse words come out of him, you feel him so close but he doesn't cum. He stops stroking your clit as you batted his hand away, you didn't realise you had been clenching the sheets with white knuckles until you relax your hands and feel a cramp in your palm.

Jeno slows his thrusts until he stills inside of you, his chest is moving up and down with each of his heavy breaths. You move your legs off of his shoulders, enjoying the movements as your legs feel strained too.

But as soon as your feet hit the bed, he grabs you and flips you so you land on your stomach. He pulls your hips up and slides into you again.

"Fuck!" You scream as he slams into you unapologetically. One hand holding your hip, the other trails along your back as he begins fucking you from behind. He leans over you, still ploughing, and comes closer to your ear.

"I always wanted to fuck you like this, you are always strutting around showing off, your ass? Do you like teasing me?"

You don't even know what you like right now. Mind too focused on needed Jeno to fuck you any way he pleased.

He grins, then shoves your head back down into the mattress, straightening his back and fucks you harder than you think you’ve ever have been before. You couldn't keep up with the movements, head a complete daze from all of the orgasms that he had given you.

You come to a conscious mind when a hard slap lands on your ass, it makes your pussy throb so he does it again, and again, rubbing over the area and soothing it before doing it again. Each time it makes you clench around him.

"Jeno," you cry out between thrusts.

"Yeah, baby?" His voice sounded so much deeper, which told you he was close. That and the way his thrusts grew random and unstable.

"Want you to cum in me," You moan, clenching the sheets again.

"I'm not wearing a condom," He grits through his teeth.

"I'm on the pill,” you manage to say between heavy breaths. You needed him to cum in you now.

He shakes his head, "Last thing I need is to get my best friend's little sister pregnant." And that was that because he thrust a few more times, then pulls out, and instantly, all over your ass and back you felt a hot liquid splatter about.

As soon as his grip left your hip you fell straight down onto the mattress, and your body was thankful for it. Everything hurt. He'd destroyed you. Fucked you, well and truly. And you couldn't stop the smile on your face.

"I'll go get a cloth." He said through some heavy breaths then climbed off of the bed and went to your bathroom. He emerged a moment later, used the warm cloth to clean up his mess although you notice him take a minute to look at it.

"Admiring your work?" You asked him through a laugh, he looked at you and shook his head chuckling.

"Trust me, if I could take a picture I would,” he wipes it away. Then he returned to the bathroom to throw the cloth in the hamper but as soon as he stood in the doorway of you heard three loud knocks on your bedroom door.

"Y/N? You in there? Have you seen Jeno?"

You shot up in bed, suddenly not tired or spent. Jeno’s eyes grew wide too.

You lifted your finger to your lips and gestured to Jeno to stay in the bathroom. He didn't hesitate as he shuts the door.

Jaemin would fucking kill him and you, without a doubt. Only moments ago you had his best friend’s cum covering your ass.

"One second," you shout, jumping out of bed and grabbing your T-shirt. Then you rush over to the door, paint on your best sleeping face and yawn whilst opening it.

"Oh, you were asleep?" Jaemin stood on the other side, hands braced on either side of the door frame.

You fake another yawn. He looks behind you and you turn too, fearful Jeno was standing there but then you spied your duvet cover on the other side of the room. Jamein frowned and looked back to you.

"I was hot." You shrug.

"Shit sorry," He quickly says. "I just can't find Jeno anywhere.”

"He’s your friend not mine.”

"I don’t understand why you two hate each other," He rolls his eyes and you can't help but scoff at the irony.

Hate wasn’t exactly the word you’d use for the guy that was just 8 inches deep inside of you.

"Well, he's probably off getting high or fucking some girl.”

“Better not be in our parent’s bed again,” he huffs, and your eyes go wide. “Fuck, he better not be doing it in my bed either,” he says to himself.

And with that, he storms away heading for his room. Chuckling, you shut the door and Jeno emerges from the bathroom, a towel now wrapped around his waist and he stands there facing you.

"That was close."

"Too close." You sigh.

He dresses himself as you climb back in bed, getting your duvet back on and covering yourself with it. He walks over to the door and pulls it open, peeking outside to check the coast is clear, then once he does he turns to look over his shoulder at you.

"Our secret?" He says.

"Our secret." You nod and he steps out, not looking back and shuts the door.

You lie back on your bed, head falling into your pillows and laugh.

But then you shake your head processing it all, moving your hand to cover your mouth, looking at the ceiling.

You just fucked your brother’s best friend.

#jeno smut #jeno x reader #nct smut #nct x reader #nct dream smut #nct dream x reader #jeno scenarios #nct scenarios #kpop smut #nct hard hours

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caineinthecorner · 6 months

Text

Hi. I binged like 80 chats in a row and I have opinions(tm) about physical strength and general power stuff of the brothers. Mostly just strength related things, but I tried to cover most of their battle stuff.

Yes I know, yes I know, "they're ranked as siblings by power blabla", but that's LAME. So here are my personal takes mostly for fun. Canon is dead and I ate it.

Also I finished the dividers and general aesthetics of this blog woo

★ Lucifer.

Generally the strongest, period, can and WILL kill almost anyone without much issue or even second thought

Physical strength, however? He’s not the best, as he doesn’t rely on it at all for battle / conflict

He didn't need it in heaven, after all

(Beel was his brawns and he was already a powerful angel so it never was a requirement)

I don't see him actively working out (anymore, at least), so most of his strength is merely his baseline

His main tactic conflict wise is intimidation.

Cough giving MC death threats cough

Very prideful of himself in battle, obviously

Rarely would ever use any sort of dirty tricks

Would probably prefer to go down the "honorable way"

Target his brothers though and he WILL play every trick in the book with little regard to his pride or his own life

This fuck looks like he knows swordsmanship and is probably the only of the brothers who does so

(except maybe Satan who is learning just to copy / be better than him)

Either that or he knows fancy sword dances for angel rituals he cannot partake in anymore (and doesn't do them anymore)

Diavolo has photos of him doing said dances but his lips are triple sealed since it is a heavily touchy subject

★ Mammon.

Canonically this man is physically weak (or at least has a weak complexion / scrawny arms)

Probably the most disappointing in terms of strength because he is literally the second born

His saving grace is his unholy speed and dirty tricks, using it to cover his weaknesses / lack of physical strength.

A LOT of dirty tricks and bs magic stuff. So so many. Never ends

He’s the living embodiment of the “random bullshit go!!!” meme

You know Looney tunes? Yeah this man has the Bugs bunny's levels of bullshit

But he has the best stamina out of his brothers (so he can run away from his debts)

Doesn't train because he's already perfect as it is (<- that's his ego talking he can barely pick up the weights at Beel's gym)

Honor is for the dead type of person. Nothing is out of the table in battle

(^ that makes him terrifying to fight against btw)

He either tries to intimidate (imitating Lucifer) or sweet-talk his way out of conflict

It usually just pisses off his adversary more which actually leads to the fights starting, but hey, he tried 乁⁠(⁠ ⁠•⁠_⁠•⁠ ⁠)⁠ㄏ

★ Leviathan.

Physical strength is shit.

he will get his shit kicked if he tries to brawl with almost anyone

Except maybe the lowest hanging fruit (humans)

Magical or general strength is decent, but he's definitely not the greatest in battle out of the brothers

^ he's kinda insecure about this and he wishes he were stronger (he sulks about it)

Wishes that actual irl battles were like Fire Emblem or strategy games bcs he's actually good in those

Update: I didn't make it clear (mb lol) but I see him as the best strategist of the brothers by far, he just isn't good at front-line action

^ Being away from the front lines keeps the pressure away from him for the most part, and it avoids him getting riled up and acting rash

He once tried to workout with Beel but quickly got overwhelmed because Beel shoved 200kg weights onto him thinking it was an reasonable starting point

So he kinda has trauma(tm) about it

Despite his garbage physical prowess, he WILL start fights and get riled up easily

He goes onto his demon form immediately when he wants to fight

^ bcs his strength isn't great, and he needs any boost he can get

Plus, awful anger management

My man will get onto a fist fight with the demon equivalent of a redditor over anime waifus and he will lose

★ Satan.

As the literal embodiment of Wrath, he does pack quite a punch and will maul you to death with only his fists. No problems at all

But that's merely his baseline strength (which is a lot) since he doesn’t really train physically

Probably focuses on other areas (read: intelligence) instead of physical strength.

Which is ironic because he could kick Lucifer's ass in a fist fight if he actually trained more

But oh well. Books do be booking

Surprisingly strategic while in fights, although not above Going Apeshit

Funnily enough the least likely of the brothers to enter a fight

Has read The Art Of War and will quote it just to be a smartass

★ Asmodeus.

Physically? Weak.

Probably the weakest of the brothers, having more or less the strength of a human (and on the weaker side of that).

He doesn’t train whatsoever; Likes his slender figure and muscles “ruin” that.

However, he makes up for it on the "trickster" scale.

As the Avatar of Lust, he will probably go the charm route instead of wanting to directly fight his enemies, or he make someone else do the dirty work for him.

Think of Mammon but make it a bit less scummy, tricks wise.

His go-to is sweet talk.

Something something the Avatar of Lust being physically weak since sex is considered an act of vulnerability and therefore the lowering of one’s guard something something

Something something the poetic narrative of the Avatar of Lust having only power through Communication something something

★ Beelzebub.

Contrary to Asmo; he does lift for days and can pack quite the punch, being one of the stronger brothers physically despite being one of the youngest.

I don't see him caring much for magic or other types of strength, he is content in packing the punch and has the capabilities to back him up.

Fight wise he will probably punch the problems away

Maybe use one or two tricks he’s learned

Mostly relies on his intuition and gut and it surprisingly works out

Nothing fancy; Dictionary definition of all muscle no brain battle wise

Literally one of the scariest brothers to ever fight he will actually beat you to a bloody pulp

And make a smoothie out of it

★ Belphegor.

This fucker doesn't lift at all you can't tell me shit

At MOST he'll accompany Beel to the gym and would sleep at the benches

The strength he has is the strength he was born with

Which isn't a lot, but still above human average by quite a lot

More or less demon standard of strength. Maybe a slightly below it

But he's still above most demons by a mile in other regards, mostly magic prowess

He's stronger than Levi because I think it would be hilarious that the dude who sleeps all day is stronger than him

(or you can make him really physically strong just because it'd be funny to see the sleepy dude kick ass)

(either way is funny as shit go ham)

★ Physical strength chart

Behemoth type strength :

Beel (only barely)

Lucifer

Satan

High / Low above human average :

Mammon

Belphie (low diff w/ mammon)

Levi

Asmo

★General strength chart

Can kill hundreds no effort :

Lucifer

Satan (If apeshit)

Are not as strong but still terrifying :

Mammon

Beel

Belphie

Levi, Asmo (Tie)

#obey me #obey me! shall we date?#obey me shall we date #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me satan #obey me asmodeus #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphegor #obey me headcanons #obey me hcs #caineshcs #gentle reminder that i am noy saying that they're weak #all the demon brothers are stupid strong and the best of the best for a reson #i am saying that some are *physically* weak #but even then they're almost all HIGH above the human average #i can't believe i have to make this clear but oh well

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sprucewoodmpreg · 2 years

Text

hi vaguely serious messy post about hermitblr and new members and just. letting everyone know that we’ve had history with cc interaction on here before that i think would be useful for people to learn about

Trafficblr/Hermitblr has seen a lot of growth lately, largely in part from people migrating over here from the DSMP side of MCYTblr. This in of itself is completely fine! New people jumping onto the bus with us are always welcome, and the growth of the community as a whole is really nice to see.

However, I have noticed a lot of these newer blogs sharing the same very specific behaviours, and if possible, I’d like to just make a few things about the community and our history clear. Because this isn’t DSMP, and the CCs here handle content creation and their own fanbases very differently to them.

While I’m not going to go in-depth on 2019 since I don’t have nearly as much information about it as other people do, I would like to say that back then, Hermitblr was kind of an active war zone. It was comparable to how Hermittwt is now, with infighting about shipping and similar topics being the norm (however in Hermitblr’s case many of these argument were far more personal due to the smaller fandom size). What I want to point out specifically however, is when one of the CCs, Cleo, was thrown into the community infighting. I don’t remember the specifics of it, but she was sent an ask asking about shipping, and her opinions on it, and eventually dealt with so much backlash that she was forced to leave the site entirely (this post here has a slightly more comprehensive summary, if need be).

I’m just a little concerned, because there seems to have been a slight increase in that demographic of people recently. Specifically, members of the community who want to rely on CCs to dictate what happens in fan spaces; for them to give us bullet point lists of what their exact boundaries are for every single situation.

This rarely ends well. As in, it almost always just causes infighting and hostility. There will always be people making content that will “break boundaries”, regardless of any creator’s wishes. However, this is usually mitigated by the fact that many of these CCs aren’t on Tumblr (at least not anymore....mostly). The problem arises when members of the community attempt to act as Heroes Of Justice, and go out of their way to send asks to other blogs, informing them exactly of how they’ve broken the boundaries of some 40 year old adult. This is all despite the fact that said adult will....never see whatever post went against their wishes. It just encourages policing and this weird superiority....thing, where despite the lack of content creators, people are still fighting to make sure that the site is clean from any possibly upsetting posts.

I say this all while also acknowledging that many of the creators in this sphere also don’t have a very comprehensive understanding of how fandom interacts with their “characters”. To them, “shipping” has always been RPF, and there are so many other aspects of the community that simply can’t be explained easily, as they haven’t been immersed in this culture like we have. This is to say that asking for “boundaries” is likely to get you a very confused and unhelpful answer, as the Hermits have always had a very different way of interacting and viewing their fanbase than the DSMP creators do. There is no “c!” or “cc!” to them, to put it simply.

Essentially, the Hermits are adults. They’ve been doing content creation for years, and I can guarantee you they’ve seen worse things in their lives than art of their Minecraft character kissing another Minecraft character. They’ve dealt with this shit before, and if they wanted it to stop, they’re free to make a post about it whenever want. And yet, they haven’t. They leave fandom up to us. Boundaries and rules and infighting and just...all of that? Let’s leave it to the Twitter users, please. Post what you want, make sure to tag your posts correctly, and we’ll all be fine.

Also, while I’m going to try not to rehash any discourse about inviting CCs to Tumblr, I also do just want to implore you guys to consider that the environment on Hermittwt is partially the way it is because of the active presence of the Hermits there, with people flocking for attention or a single notice, and obsessively checking posts to make sure they’re not potentially “boundary-breaking” and such. Please just consider that many people are here to avoid the dynamics of that site. Tumblr is a site for fans, not for the CCs. So we create content here for ourselves, and not for them. Having creators join almost always leads to the culture of their fanbase on here changing, with content posted in the maintags being catered more towards them rather than the fanbase. (This isn’t to say that they can’t join!! But at least keeping in mind why many of us are here in the first place and weighing that against potential CC interactions would mean a lot).

I fear that my point may have been lost a little bit, but I hope my explanation at least brings a little bit of light to why many members of the community here are wary of Creators coming over to the site, and also of how many newer blogs tend to treat the CCs. Hermitblr has had some really bad history in the past when it comes to this stuff, and seeing newer fans bring over similar ideas from DSMPblr just worries me a little bit.

TL:DR - Just...please treat the Hermits like the adults they are, and keep in mind they have a very different dynamic with their fanbases to the DSMP creators. Asking for “boundaries” and granting CCs control of the fanbase will likely lead you nowhere; attempting to police fanspaces here just brings up bad memories of times when Hermitblr was a much more miserable place to be in. Plus, if you want CC interactions, please just go to twitter. Nobody here wants to deal with an attempted “cleanse” of the site to make it more palatable to CCs.

#i hope this is ok. again im not. trying to police or be a ''fandom mom'' or fucking. whatever #just giving my 2 cents on the subject. take it or leave it i don't care im not the boss of you and you dont have to listen to me #also gen if you see this and want me to remove your post just send me an ask and i'll take it out #discourse #if i said anything goofy or fucked up lmk because while i did try 2 proofread this im also not very concise nor clear #just gonna hit post. assuming this isn't gonna get more than like. 20 notes anyway so i likely wont have to worry abt ppl getting mad @ me

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periracha · 4 months

Text

Waiting

☾ pairing: Dad!Chan x Mom!Reader ☾ wc: 2k ☾ genre: fluff, boring domesticity (gasp) ☾ cw: Christmas themes, kids, suggestive jokes, me trying to be funny idk, language, chan being chan ☾ summary: the bangs get in the holiday spirit! ☾ a/n: wanted to get a whole aesthetic and masterlist up for this blog before i posted anything but this little idea had my brain in a chokehold all day so,,,,enjoy ! also, let me know if I should continue writing this family so i can give them names, etc. yes this piece is fluff but this blog is 18+, MDNI

Ripples start to splash against the inside of your mug as you set it down on the coffee table that has been pushed aside for the evening to allow enough room for you and your husband.

“Clearing the living room floor the second both kids are down and out?” Chan asks with a wiggle of his eyebrow.

“Bit risky but I can work with this” he says while straining his neck and pulling his left arm across his chest in a stretch in preparation.

You look up at him when a scoff falls from your lips, “ha yeah you wish. Now get the wrapping paper from the closet”

“Please” you add with a sarcastic smile and sweet like honey tone.

He blinked at you silently for a split second before he huffed out a big sigh, “Oh thank god. I don’t think my back could handle these hardwood floors like it used to” he finishes as he makes his way to the hallway closet.

“Mmm unfortunately the only action these floors have been getting lately is spilled juice and probably some dusty cheetos the kids kicked under the couch” you joke as Chan meets you on the floor with wrapping supplies and gifts.

A quiet laugh in agreement leaves his lips.

“She’s gonna love this” Chan says with a grin so wide it meets his eyes.

He’s holding up a Bluey plushie that plays a few catchphrases from the show when its paw is squeezed.

“She better…. I’m running out of reasons why she can’t buy it every time we go to the store” you say as you cut wrapping paper big enough to wrap the doll and hand it to him.

Your daughter had wanted this little plushie for months now, always asking to stop by the toy section whenever you visit your local department store. You quickly learned that simply telling her the store didn’t have anymore wasn’t gonna fly with her. She always found a way to swindle you into the toy aisles, finding the plushie every time. Distracting her with books or other small toys could only get you so far; luckily Christmas was only a few days away and you both would soon see the joy on her face when she opened her gift.

“How do you even wrap these things??” Chan huffed out with a bewildered look on his face; his brows drawn tight and his eyes wide open. The piece of wrapping paper you had given him was creased all over, and covered in way too many pieces of tape that didn’t actually do anything to keep the paper together.

A giggle started in your chest but you choked it down with a fake cough. Chan was used to being good at almost anything he put his mind to.

Dancing? Easy.

Singing? No Problem.

Writing thousands of unique songs that differed in their own ways? Piece of cake.

Sports? Absolutely.

Wrapping a small gift for his three year old daughter? Not so much.

Carefully, you took the small doll from his hand and replaced it with a box of bath toys for your son.

“Here, let me handle this…and you wrap these” you said nonchalantly as soon as you made the switch; immediately working on your new task at hand.

Chan gawked at you with a goofy smile on his face, “You don’t think I can do it?...you’re demoting me to only wrapping boxes?” he laughed while feigning offense.

“No no no!”, you waved off, “you’re just soooo good! Better than me! The best actually!” you rushed out while trying to contain your laughter but ultimately failing.

Chan looked at you with pointed eyes, but had a wide smile plastered on his face the entire time. He looked like he was going to say something in retaliation but decided against it, letting out a small chuckle and shaking his head instead while he got to work on the box.

Many presents later you were both feeling the ache deep in your lower back from hunching over on the floor.

“Okay that's enough for me, I’m tapping out,” Chan said stretching his back with a yawn.

You yawned and simply shook your head up and down in agreement, thinking about how you were too tired to even keep your eyes open.

You got up and gathered all your wrapping supplies to store away.

“Oh! Can you take all those and put them under the tree?” you asked him while pointing to the group of gifts.

He hummed a quick mhm and started gathering them in his arms.

“Make sure to put Bluey on top of the one of the taller presents so they can’t get to it” you called out as you made your way to your room.

“Yep, got it” Chan quickly responded before placing all the presents down and making his way to follow you to your bedroom.

The next day went blissfully as usual; waking up way too early to cries before the sun is even fully out, only to finally get your son back down and you barely back in bed before your daughter barges in demanding French toast stat.

Did you even have all the ingredients for french toast?

You already got one kid handled, Chan could handle this one.

You lightly kicked him in the leg as he laid beside you to wake him up before you made yourself comfortable to fall back asleep.

When you did wake up, you grabbed your son and met your husband and daughter in the living room, setting him down to crawl around the rug.

“Good morning love”, Chan greeted you with a kiss to your cheek and sliding his arms around your waist in a loose hug.

You hummed a good morning back before resting your head against his chest.

“My turn! My turn!” your daughter yelled entirely too close to your eardrum as she stood on the couch in an attempt to be as eye level as she could with you.

“Coffee?” Chan asked with a smirk as he let you go and made his way to the kitchen.

“Ohhh yeah” you answered before turning your attention fully on your daughter.

She puckered her lips and stood on her tiptoes in an attempt to copy her dad’s previous actions. You bent down and she kissed your cheek, “Good morning, mommy!”, she giggled before flopping down on the couch.

“Oh it is a good morning!” you smiled back to her before tickling her to get some hugs in.

Chan met you back in the living room with your fresh cup of coffee as you both sat on the couch, watching your children play together in the early morning hours.

Your son crawled towards the christmas tree and before you could get up to grab him he had already bumped into a few presents, causing one of them to go off.

“Hello! Hehehe”

The noise immediately caught your daughter's attention and her head snapped towards the tree before her eyes widened. You could see the wheels starting to turn in her head to try and make sense of what just happened when you looked over at Chan who was sporting a mortified look. Jaw hung open and downward, eyes widening and moving around the room at everyone’s faces.

The damn Bluey doll had gone off and one of her most wanted presents was most likely spoiled now.

“WHAT WAS THAT?” she rushed out, walking closer to the tree.

“Your brother!” Chan blurted out way too quickly before tightening his lip into a flat line, realizing what he just did.

Your daughter stopped dead in her tracks and looked at the both of you.

“What???” she asked again, her eyes darting between yours and Chan’s a few times.

“He can talk??, “ she screamed, bewildered at the new information being thrown at her all too quickly, pointing at him and eyes wide as saucers.

You let out a huff of air and forced yourself to take a sip of your coffee, hoping to buy you some time, waiting for your brain to kick on. It was too early for this.

Chan looked at you waiting for you to come in and save the conversation but you had nothing. How were you supposed to convince a 3 year old that her 8 month old brother could now speak when he’s never done that before.

You’re on your own here. You thought to yourself as your eyes met Chan’s again. His face still stuck in the same shocked expression.

“Uhh…yeah..yeah…?” Chan tried to get out nonchalantly but it ended up coming out more like a question and high pitched tone, before clearing his throat.

Your son had now crawled toward your daughter and started grabbing at her legs to get her attention.

You needed a moment to think but your daughter would absolutely follow you wherever you went to…. Unless…?

You coughed into your arm dramatically, “ooooh mommy needs medicine, I will be right back” you said before quickly standing up and making your way to the hallway cabinets before she could stop you.

Even the possibility of being around cough medicine, seeing it with her own eyes, was enough to keep your daughter from following you. She was not about to risk having to take that, yucky grape stuff, as she likes to call it.

Chan followed after you, staying in the open area to keep an eye on the two kids.

“So our 8 month old is saying full words now is he?” you asked, raising your eyebrows when he got closer to you.

“I panicked okay!”, he screamed in a hushed tone.

“So you blame it on the baby?!” you asked in disbelief, a laugh starting in the bottom of your throat. You tightened your lips in an effort to stop the smile you knew was coming.

“What else was I supposed to say it came from?” Chan asked with a strained laugh, “you were no help!” he accused, pointing his finger and narrowing his gaze.

“I don’t know Chan! The TV? Your phone?” you huffed out off the top of your head and throwing your hands in the air.

“Hm. yeah that would’ve been good”, he said staring at the floor, realizing just how easy those would’ve been to explain away to a child.

He stepped back from you to get a better look at your kids a few steps away. His brow furrowed so you stepped forward to see what he was looking at.

Your daughter was sitting directly across from your son with a serious expression on her face, no more playing going on in sight.

“What..what are you guys doing?” Chan asked loud enough for your kids to hear.

Your daughter looked back at him, “Waiting,” she said matter of factly before refocusing her attention back on her brother.

“Waiting foorrr?” Chan asked, raising his eyebrows as you both took a step toward them.

“Him to talk again” she answered without bothering to even look at Chan this time, her serious gaze never leaving her brother's face. He was babbling and drooling while playing with the legs of her pajama pants.

You both couldn’t contain the laughs that came from your mouths. Today was going to be a long day.

You couldn’t wipe the smile from your face as you thought about your family’s antics. Never a boring day in the Bang household, but you wouldn’t have it any other way.

“Hey Chan, what did you do with the matching talking Bingo we wrapped last night?”

“Shit”

©periracha, 2023.

106 notes · View notes

whumblr · 23 days

Text

Jaybird screaming in the dead of night

Home is where the hurt is: Part 1

“Hey Jay,” Zayne sang, slowly, menacingly, butchering ‘Hey Jude’, while swirling himself around the corner into the kitchen startling Jay. “Don’t be afraid.”

Jay, at the first notes of his name in rhyme, turned away from the counter and his dinner prep, his eyebrows raising in surprise and the hairs on his arms in alarm. Just hearing his name in song gave him many reasons to be afraid. He raised his chopping knife in an automatic response, just holding it out in front of him.

“Drop the knife,” Zayne said, now stepping forward and emphasizing his words with the click of his own knife, flicking it up, “Unless you want to compare which one is sharper.”

His kitchen knife might not be as sharp, but it was coated in onion juices. Not an experiment Jay wanted to engage in. With a loud clank, he dropped it in the sink, falling another step back.

Zayne kept advancing on him, slowly, backing him into the dark corner of the kitchen, talking and waving his knife about with every step. “So, I just bumped into your neighbour, downstairs. Or well, he almost fully crashed into me, really. So I shouted after him, holding the door open for him, ‘Hey, what’s the hurry?!’ And you know what he shouted back?”

Probably, yeah, Jay had an inkling of where this was going. And how it was now going to bite – stab – him in the arse. But he kept his mouth shut, dread stealing his voice and knowing Zayne would continue his terrorizing monologue anyway.

Which he did. “He said, ‘Sorry, I’m late!’. So I asked, ‘Late for what?!’” The conversational tone fell away as he leaned forward against Jay, one hand brushing against his, pinning him to the kitchen counter. “Work,” he breathed in Jay’s face. “He was late for work.”

Jay leaned back as far as he could, hands on the edge of the counter, arms bending. He tried to make a soft hum in feigned surprise, but it turned to a soft but sharp inhale as the knife was brought up in his face.

“You never told me he works night shifts,” Zayne crooned, brushing the flat of the knife over Jay’s jawline.

“I mean, it never really came u—”

“But then it all started making sense, you know. How you always tried to hold back on your screaming in the afternoon. And here I was, making an effort to keep the noise down at night…”

The knife fell away from Jay’s clenched jaw, dropped against his clavicle and disappeared under his collar. The cold sensation turned sharper, gradually pressing into his skin.

“Well, no need to worry about that now, you don’t have to hold back. He just left. You can scream as much as you want.”

~Bonus~

Zayne leaned back and pulled the kitchen knife from the sink.

“What were you chopping?” he asked, turning the knife back and forth as if he could analyse what was on it (instead of, you know, looking back).

“Onions...”

“Hm.” He swiped his own blade over the knife as if sharpening it, making them sing a threatening tune together. “Do you think it stings in more than just your eyes?”

“You don't need onions to make me cry,” Jay tried to goad him into dropping the knife. He didn’t need a dual-wielding Zayne.

Zayne merely stared at him, eyes softening to a fond expression as he was mulling it over and the stupidity of Jay’s words hit him.

“You’re right,” he said, to Jay’s short-lived relieve. Then his tone shifted and he merely whispered: “I don't.”

Tag list:

Tag list: @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi @burtlederp @castielamigos-whump-side-blog @hurtmebeautifully @rougenoirofthepurpleterror @susiequaz12 @whump-me-all-night-long @rippedjeansandfadeddreams @im-just-here-for-the-whump @restrainthenmaime @freefallingup13 @whatwasmyprevioususername @myfriendcallsmeasickwoman19 @firewheeesky @redstainedsocks @hold-back-on-the-comfort @whumpawink @break-so-beautifully @approach-me-and-ill-cry @painsandconfusion @afabulousmrtake @wormwriting @soopytime @whumpedydump @pickleking8 @itsmyworld98 @whumpifi @painless-and-colourful @withdrawingramen

#whump #whump drabble #threatened torture #angst #backed into a wall my beloved #lil drabble to get back into things #yknow I often wonder how hank is going to take it when he finds out *what* exactly has been happening in jay's flat...#thats a whole new angstfest #jay *chopping chilis*#Zayne: watcha making :))#Jay *swiping everything knife and all into the trash* Nothing! Something without flavour!#hiwthi #hiwthi drabbles #home is where the hurt is #my writing

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seeds-and-sins · 3 months

Text

Light My Fire - Part Seven

Pairing: Ben "Soldier Boy" x F!Reader

Rating: M (Crude Language, Curse Words, Sexism, descriptions of explicit sexual content)

Description: Phoenix faces a ghost.

Tagged: @tonixe @chernayawidow, @deans-spinster-witchs-favorites, @ophennie @virgoelf-blog, @my-obsession-spn, @capricxnt

Part Six

Your father died in the war.

1945. The Battle of Okinawa.

You were fifteen years old.

You don't remember much about him, but he was a good man. He promised to come home. When the soldiers came marching in, he wasn't with them. Your mother wasn't the same after that, but she didn't show it on the surface. She cried in the bathroom and whimpered into her pillow, but she never let anyone see her like that. You had admired her when you were younger.

But now?

You couldn't even recall what her face looked like. When you thought about her, which wasn't often, all you could think about were words: strong, independent, fierce, and hard-working. Your mother was a no nonsense kind of gal and that was how she raised you. She was a secretary for some big shot in St. Louis, a working woman that earned her own and fended for her own. If not for her, you wouldn't be here. You can imagine yourself aging, having married and had children ages ago. Maybe you'd be in a nursing home right now. Maybe you'd be in a grave.

But no.

Your mother refused to marry you off like all the other mothers of your time. She didn't believe that a woman belonged in the kitchen and she refused to allow you to think otherwise. She instilled in you a fury that remained even to today.

You both lost touch with one another when you were entered into the program. You were twenty-two years old, your mother had made the arrangements herself. You don't remember why she did, but frankly, it was so long ago you can't bring yourself to care. You never went out to find her. You were certain that she was dead by now. And of the things she left you with, 'I love you' wasn't one of them.

Don't trust anyone, she said.

And don't you dare fall in love. You'll just get yourself hurt. No one cares about you and no one ever will. Remember that.

You should have listened to her, but over time her words just became less and less valuable. You didn't take them seriously anymore. Not like you used to. You doubt she told you them under the assumption that you would live to be almost a hundred years old and look not a day over twenty-two. She couldn't possibly understand what it was like to be in your boots.

It was lonely.

Surely, that would be the exception. If you trusted someone along the way, that was okay. If you fell in love...

But no.

None of this was okay.

And you don't think your mother would approve of you attending the seventieth anniversary of the biggest hero fuck fest in history.

You were scowling in disgust as you made your way through the halls of the mansion. Tommy, Tessa, and the Deep had disappeared, but you weren't so concerned about it. If Tommy and Tessa were still alive, that meant that Ben wasn't here yet. But Ben was on his way and you needed to prepare yourself for the worst. The moaning, the exotic smells that permeated in the air, the sounds of skin slapping against skin, it wasn't making your situation any better.

You couldn't believe that the twins were still doing this. It was obvious by the look on your face that you had never been a big fan of Ben's annual Herogasm. He started it with some other heroes a long ways back and from that point forward he made it a habit to host the orgy in his penthouse every once a year. You had been invited on numerous occasions before Payback had even been formed. Back then, heroes were few and far between. You didn't have hundreds of them like there was now. The invites were little pamphlets with splashes of vibrant colors stamped down by a printing press, some poorly drawn pornographic comic scribbled on the front. They were sent out by whoever was Soldier Boy's assistant at the time. Knowing how Soldier Boy was after he met you in person, if the invites had been sent by him personally, he probably would have come and fetched you himself.

That was much like what happened after he met you. Being a member of his team didn't deter him from you in the slightest. Ben would invite you to Herogasm himself every year after Payback had been created. And every year that Ben approached you about the event, you gave a very firm and strong 'no'. Ben was so determined that he would try everything he could think of to get you to change your mind. As if him barreling through your penthouse door in the early morning wasn't already bad enough. He sent you sex toys, gave you intimate details on who was going to be there, attempted to bribe you with food and drinks and drugs.

It wasn't like you were a prude.

In your younger days, you would do anything to have a good time. You were reasonable and rule-abiding, but it was a known fact that you liked to party. And you were wild and fun and carefree. The world was your playground and you were so excited to learn and try new things. Heck, you weren't even that young then. But within the era arose a lot of great changes and great changes meant new things. Everyone was living life to the fullest and everyone was rocking and rolling, swinging, mixing drugs and drinks, learning about themselves. It was a new age. Gone were the ways of the old.

So, you weren't going to lie to yourself, part of you really did want to go to Herogasm. You couldn't count how many times you had nearly walked yourself all the way to Soldier Boy's penthouse. Be damned the reality of giving him the satisfaction, you just wanted to have fun. The rational and reasonable side of yourself would stop you. You would have to do a regroup on the top of a tower somewhere, pace back and forth as you thought up reasons as to why you shouldn't go.

Orgies were great and all, but there was nothing that beat the physical and carnal intimacy of being with someone in private.

Ben had tried to persuade you that way too: It'll just be you and I, how 'bout that? But there still was the problem of him being in a relationship. Take away the public aspect of it and there still was the fact that he was with Crimson. No matter how many passes Crimson gave him, you wouldn't be just some other girl, you wouldn't allow that. And you couldn't do that to Countess.

The idea of facing him in the workplace after that, you'd never be able to do that. You weren't sure how your teammates managed. Payback had fucked with each other in every which way, even outside of Heorgasm. Herogasm was supposed to be the fuck for free card: once a year, fuck whoever you want, however you want, no consequences. What happens in Herogasm stays in Herogasm, kind of bullshit. You would never be able to do that.

Your best bet was to stay away. And you did.

It was almost ironic that you would confront Ben, after all these years, at an event like this. You weaved through the corridors of the mansion, peeking into rooms and steering clear of naked bodies. You found a surprisingly secluded part of the home and took up a space there. You were fiddling with the edge of your cape, pacing back and forth as you waited.

"Okay. Deep Breathes." You told yourself, muttering reassurances that fell empty in your gut. "Everything will be fine. Everything will work out."

What would you even say to Ben? It wasn't his fault that he had been trapped by the Soviets all these years. If anything, it was yours. You blamed yourself for not saving him when you should have. Why did you wait to confront the team? Why didn't you just go get Ben? None of this would be happening if you did. Maybe you'd finally be retired.

Or maybe you just liked this too much...

You don't know how much time had passed, too lost in your thoughts. A sickeningly sweet smell filtered in, a cloud of smoke floating in the air. You inhaled deeply through your nose, nostrils flaring.

"Halothane?" The smell brought a sense of nostalgia. Criminals tried to use it on you a few times back in the day, assuming it would knock you out cold. Either some super kinky shit was going on or something was about to go down.

You followed the cloud of smoke, turning a corner to find it unfurling from a container that rested at your feet. Some sort of smoke grenade, you deduced. You stepped forward, trotting down a set of steps before coming upon two familiar faces. The two men were in conflict with one another, Butcher easily holding back the larger man with one hand.

"Well, if it isn't Billy fuckin' Butcher." They both paused, eyes landing on you. Butcher faced you, a small smirk lifting his lips.

"Phoenix, the fiery cunt, funny seeing you 'ere."

Billy had tried to kill you a few years ago. His team and him had been tasked with obliterating your entire career and even trying to find a way to obliterate you. They failed, of course. There was no doubt that they would. And you didn't blame them for trying to kill you, you were a loose cannon. Still were. You returned his smirk as you came down those last few steps.

"I wouldn't be smiling if I were you. Don't think ya'know what's about to happen." You paused, cocked your head to the side, your irises glowed red. All too fast, a gust of air slashed at your sides as you moved with a startling quickness. Your hand encompassed Butcher's throat and you pinned him to the wall. The wall crackled around the force of your combined strength and his weight. His colleague threw a fist at a nearby display case, the glass shattered onto the carpet floor, he withdrew a wooden baseball bat. The wooden bat splintered as it hit your back, falling into a mess of pieces. Butcher fought back with a grin, making a good effort, something you didn't miss. That grin of his faded when he realized he wasn't strong enough to pry your fingers away from his exposed throat.

"What have you been up to, you piece of shit? You've gotten abnormally strong since I last saw you." You showed your teeth, your hand as hot as a furnace, holding Butcher in place as if he were a mouse. "You couldn't have taken V, I don't take you to be that kind of guy." Your gaze wandered up and down with a sick curiosity as he continued to struggle, clawing at your hand with an iron grip. "Nooo..." You ponder with a pop of your lips. "You took something else. Ya'know you can't trust that shit, right?"

"Let him go!" His colleague stood back now, withdrawing a pistol. He fired six shots at you, the bullets hit your side and dropped to the floor in little dented beads. You plainly looked between the bullets and him.

"Really?" You spat, "Don't you guys know anything by now? For fucks sake, it's always the same shit with you people."

BOOM!

The explosion surprised you and you relinquished your grip on Butcher. The wall at your back exploded into a mess of rubble, a burst of heavy wind pushing back at you. Billy and his friend collapsed to the ground from the blast, while you stayed perfectly still against it. Your eyes narrowed in its direction. As the structure of the mansion around you wheezed and crumbled from the attack, you heard screams and cries for help follow. You made no move to save anyone. Butcher groaned as he shoved a wall off of him with ease. He smirked up at you.

"You're fucked." He laughed.

The walls were black with soot, plots of fire spanned out across the once pristine white. Your eyes vigorously looked around, you searched for the source. An explosion? Much like the one in Manhatten. John had told you that Soldier Boy had caused that. Stumbling from the sheet of smoke in the air, a figure appeared, down the same set of steps that you had come from, down the same corridor. They grew closer, Butcher stood to his full height, brushing off the layer of dust that had settled on him.

The figure halted when they came into view. His bright blue eyes squinted in your direction before a heated glare contorted his handsome features. Your heart stuttered in your chest, fists clenching at your sides. What were you going to say?

God-He looked just like the last time you saw him. Shiny and bright, a little rough around the edges, but just as strong. As if nothing had happened all those years ago, as if he was just coming back from a simple vacation, he was the spitting image of the man you remembered: the same suit, shield poised at his side, hair grown slightly thicker, no mask.

"Ben." He was going to kill you, wasn't he? You could see it in his eyes. His eyes lacked the fondness that haunted your dreams. When you wished you could be back at the beginning, before all this. Before Vought betrayed him, before Vought betrayed you. "Don't do this." You breathed, your eyes softened, the red in them was replaced by your natural eye color. You extended a hand. "Please."

"You haven't seen me for years and the first thing you do is beg." His voice. Even when he sounded threatening, you missed the deep, transatlantic accent that used to make you feel warm inside. You wished you had never rejected it. Fuck Countess. Fuck morals. You should have kissed him. You should have fucked him. You should have loved him. Seeing him here, none of that mattered anymore. Ben was alive. You were right. He was here. You wanted to run and hug him with all the strength you could muster. You wanted him to hug you back.

I'm better now. You would tell him.

You weren't sick anymore. Last time you saw him, he made you swear that you would be better by the time he got back.

Or maybe you were still sick.

Damaged. Deranged.

People could be sick in different ways.

Why would he want you?

Stop being dillusional.

You weren't the same person you were when you made that promise. When Ben promised to come back to you, he was Ben. Just Ben.

Your rational side returned: Ben wanted you dead now. He wasn't Ben anymore. He was the enemy.

More importantly, he wanted John dead. Who cares if Ben succeeded in killing you? You didn't care if you died. You welcomed it. But John? Fuck anyone who would dare hurt that man. You would fucking burn the world for John. He was like a son. He was your son. No one would fucking hurt him.

"I'm disappointed." Ben added, Butcher slowly walked to stand at his side. Butcher must have felt like he owned the world now. Butcher must have felt indestructible. With whatever substance was running through his veins, with Soldier Boy at his side, all of his dreams would come true: you would be killed and Homelander would be next. You wouldn't allow it.

"I don't know what else to say."

"I waited for you." Ben growled through clenched teeth. "Of all the people, I thought you would come for me."

"I tried." You replied quickly, almost pleading.

"You didn't try hard enough." His voice cracked with emotion as he spoke those last words, before his eyes flitted to something behind you. Someone. You looked over your shoulder: It was John, descending a staircase.

"William Butcher and Soldier Boy." He announced, halting beside you, shoulder to shoulder. "You were behind this. This whole thing. It really is all about me." Soldier Boy glanced back at Butcher, you saw a distant doubt at the edge of his gaze. "William, we made a deal. To fight to the death, you and me." Butcher's expression hardened, he was glaring at Homelander with a deep and sacred hatred in his bones. Heat rose in your fingertips, you were preparing yourself for a brutal battle. Homelander shot a beam of red in Butcher's direction and Butcher was thrown, hitting the wall behind him with a booming thud. Soldier Boy faced Homelander, a coolness washed over him and he stood at the ready. "You were my hero growing up." Homelander took a step toward Ben, "I watched all of your movies hundreds of times." Your breath caught as your gaze flicked between them, an intensity clung to the air. The corridor felt more tight and narrow than before. Fumes of smoke flowing from cracks in the walls, lingering after the explosion. "You were the only one that was nearly as strong as me." Those words came out soft, muttered off the tip of John's tongue. Homelander was wide eyed, someone seeing their childhood idol for the first time and maybe John was a bit disappointed.

"Buddy," Soldier Boy replied. "You think you're strong? You're wearing a cape." You grabbed Homelander's bicep. You could feel the tension vibrating in the muscle. You had a duty to stop this, right? You didn't want this. "You're just a cheap fuckin' knockoff."

"Shut up, Ben." You shot out through clenched teeth.

"And you?" Ben turned on you. "The Phoenix. Fire in the sky. You're the biggest fake of them all. The biggest fuckin' whore." Homelander's bicep slipped from your grasp and he flew at Soldier Boy with a roar. Soldier Boy collided with the wall, but he recouped fast and swung a fist across Homelander's cheek. You flew in to intervene, trying to rip the two apart. Soldier Boy shoved you and you stumbled back, Homelander's laser vision beamed at him. You were about to tear them apart again when a hand grabbed at your shoulder and ripped you backward.

It was Butcher. You blinked at him in shock, his fist collided with your cheek. It did nothing more than snap your head to the side, but you were still surprised. His eyes turned yellow and a beam was shot in Homelander's direction, shoving him back. John was momentarily stunned as his blue eyes lifted to Butcher.

"What did you do?" He snarled.

"Scorched Earth." Butcher replied, you returned by grabbing Butcher by his jacket and you yanked him away. Homelander directed his rage toward him, fists were flying, both of them dodging before making a hit. You turned your attention to Soldier Boy, he was rolling on the floor. You stomped to him, grabbed him by the collar of his chest plate and hauled him to his feet. He punched you. The hit drew blood, the boiling hot liquid ran from your nostril. Before you could collect yourself, Soldier Boy's hand was at your throat and he was choking you.

"I would have given you the fuckin' world." He hissed.

"They-" You choked out, "Got me-" Both of your hands wrapped around his wrist and you fought with all your strength. "Too." His grip loosened just a touch and his eyebrows furrowed at you in confusion. An arm looped around his neck and Homelander was drawing him into a chokehold. Butcher tackled Homelander from behind.

You held your throat, gasping for breath. You stumbled toward the three, reaching out for Butcher when you were shoved from behind. The shove wasn't enough to send you off balance, but you spun on your heel.

It was a naked man.

Starlight's boyfriend? He stared wide eyed at you, you stared wide eyed at him.

Upon recognition of his place in all this, you wasted no time, fire balled in your fist and you threw a wave of heat at him. He squealed, patting himself down, left intact by your attack. Your attentions went back to the trio. You punched Soldier Boy in the gut. Butcher climbed off Homelander to grapple you by the shoulder and throw you.

Soon. In a mess of limbs and fire, it was Homelander and you versus Starlight's boyfriend, Butcher, and Soldier Boy. Soldier Boy and Butcher were far more trained in specific combos of attack, while Homelander just aimlessly tossed his brute strength in where he could hit them. All of them had one goal. It was like you didn't even exist. Any move against you was one to keep you away. The three of them held Homelander down to the ground, Ben's chest began to glow yellow.

What was that?! What was he doing?! You had never seen that before.

"No! Stop!" You screamed, steam rose from the corners of your eyes. You grabbed Ben by the shoulders and pulled with all your might. "PLEASE!"

WHOOSH!

Your efforts were just enough to give Homelander an opening and he escaped their hold, flying into the sky and through the roof. You fell back, hitting the wall.

It was still.

Quiet.

You licked your lips, eyes focused ahead on Soldier Boy's hunched form. Butcher flipped on his side and Starlight's boyfriend stood with a limp and a grunt. Soldier Boy stood, one leg at a time, he slowly faced you. His chest rose and fell with every ragged breath. You held against the wall as he closed in on you.

"I'm going to kill him..." He began, pulling loose tufts of his hair back with his fingers. "And I'm going to make you watch." You tilted your head away. "And then I'm going to kill you." Your vision just so happened to land on Butcher. He was grinning now, blood staining his teeth.

"This is not fair, Ben." You said weakly.

"Aww, are you gonna' cry?" He taunted, lacking any jest, all cold and callous. "Gosh, I don't remember you being such a pussy."

"I don't remember you being so cold."

"Well, that's what happens when the only person you ever fuckin' cared about leaves you to the wolves for four decades!" He shouted, spital ran off his sharp teeth.

"Fuck you, Ben. You don't even know anything. You don't know." You whimpered back, defeated. You couldn't even believe that was you talking. You lifted into the air and flew through the hole in the ceiling.

Ben's eyed followed you, head tilting back. His fists clenched at his sides.

"What did she mean?" He asked out loud, "They Got Me too. What does that mean?"

"Who fuckin' knows, mate. You can't trust a word she says." Butcher replied, eyes narrowing on Soldier Boy in question. Soldier Boy needed to think Phoenix was the enemy. Otherwise, they would never kill Homelander. "She's just tryin' to get into your head."

"That flying fuck and her, are they..."

"What do you think?" And that was the only seed Butcher needed to plant because Soldier Boy's answering grimace was enough. He was hurt and he was fuming and that was how Butcher needed him to stay. He needed Soldier Boy on his side.

"Guys, we gotta' go. Like, now." Hughie stated anxiously, Butcher nodded in agreement.

"Come on." Soldier Boy stood below the hole in the ceiling, his fists clenched at his sides, he gritted his teeth.

You were right there. Right in front of him. As beautiful as the first day he had met you...

And he should have killed you.

Return to Masterlist

#reader #the boys #homelander #the seven #black noir #vought international #crimson countess #soldier boy x reader #oc hero name #billy butcher #hughie campbell #starlight #mothers milk #tnt twins #payback

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orionsangel86 · 7 months

Text

I have been doing this meta analysis thing for a long time now and one thing that I have always tried to make clear in meta analysis is that for it to be taken seriously you must keep your personal biases out of it. You must come at it as objective as possible.

Rant under the cut

Its not always easy to do when you are dealing with difficult topics, or shining unfavourable lights on characters you love, or coming to conclusions that you werent expecting (recent meta discussions about Morpheus in the Sandman comics would fall into these categories).

What meta analysis should never be used for is to back up ship wars or specifically to shame fandoms for liking certain characters. If the meta isnt providing valid evidence to support the interpretations, and instead has fallen into name calling and mockery of fandom, its no longer valid meta.

I got this ALL the time in SPN fandom. Destiel was a huge fandom but as meta writers we stuck with what we were given by the source material and interpreted it with valid evidence. We understood that multiple interpretations were possible but we made sure that whatever we were analysing made sense and had some source backing. This wasnt always the case because meta writers are not a monolith, but the bigger blogs who wrote meta frequently at least understood this and would not be stretching to support their own claims if canon didnt back it up. Now no one is perfect of course, but the point is, proper meta writers understand that where they make a claim or interpretation of the source material, they have to site examples and evidence to back up their claims and also take into consideration any evidence to the contrary.

The people who hated destiel and made that their entire personalities didnt do that so much. I read a lot of their meta out of curiosity and every time I was baffled by where they were getting their claims. 'Destiel is necrophilia" was a big one which canon disproved almost straight away in season 5. "Destiel is rape" was another because Cas was using Jimmy as a vessel and yet canon confirmed Jimmy died at the end of season 4. Cas' body was remade by God in season 5 and has remained his own ever since. These are just two of the ridiculous examples supposed "meta writers" among the destiel hater communities would come up with and still use today.

I find it extremely infuriating when I see character/ship hate loosely disguised as meta analysis. I can give people the benefit of the doubt a lot of the time, as fandoms are usually highly emotional spaces, but when there is zero canon evidence to support the claims, when connections are being made on the absolute thinnest of threads, and when far more obvious interpretations are being clearly ignored to support certain viewpoints in such a stunningly obvious case of confirmation bias I have to throw in the towel and stop taking said meta seriously.

One thing I have loved about Sandman fandom so far is the meta. It's such a rich text to analyse, and the show adds an entirely new level to it which makes it all the more enjoyable. I've made no secret of my support for Dreamling and I wrote a very long meta series on Dreamling and how the show in particular uses certain tropes, symbolism, visual storytelling cues, and music, to name a few, to overload a 25 minute sequence with queer coding. It is completely understandable to me why anyone going into the show even without thinking about shipping, would feel like Dreamling hit them like a brick to the face. The creators weren't subtle with it.

Its also totally valid to find romantic interpretations of other pairings within the Sandman. I personally think Morpheus x Johanna was laid on pretty thickly. Morpheus x Lucienne is equally an interesting ship to analyse. But heres the thing, if you ship these other ships and are frustrated that Dreamling has "taken over" thats valid. I get it. I would like more focus on the other characters too. I would particularly like to talk about Lucienne x Gault and have a meta piece in progress about them.

Whats not okay however is for other shippers and people frustrated with Dreamling to go the way of the Destiel antis. Dont make shit up that has no basis in canon just because you need some moral high ground to shit all over the ship you hate. Don't call fans that see Dreamling "deluded" for seeing it. They aren't deluded. It's right there in the subtext. Dont resort to name calling and "gotchas" and use inflammatory language to bait people. And please, I'm begging you, stop claiming that people who ship Dreamling are somehow all overly fragile white racists. You're wrong.

The racism discussions about Hob's past have their place, but these things ARE being discussed, if anything I feel this fandom has done a far better job of handling the issues of slavery than another popular fandom has (looking at you OFMD). No one is forgiving Hob for his slaver past. But you have to acknowledge that the entire point of the story in The Sandman is about change, and growth, and how we can become better people. As another excellent short meta post stated recently "we are more than the sum of our transgressions". The Sandman is all about the shades of grey. No one is morally righteous, but most characters are not completely morally bankrupt either.

Hob Gadling is a controversial character who is often misunderstood by fandom but anyone with proper critical thinking skills and a decent understanding of what meta analysis is, should understand that Hob is a metaphor for humanity first and foremost. He is the average everyman from the perspective of an Englishman and therefore above all else to understand Hob you have to look to England, to Englands history, and to its current status in the world. A lot of blood on its hands yes, but also at least a century of trying to make up for it, a leader in the world in human rights and trying to do better. I have to believe that about this country, so I believe it about Hob too. Whilst I'm not interesting in getting into huge geopolitical debates about England, I hope that we can all agree that the average Englishman today is not a blood thirsty evil slaver/rapist/murderer or whatever else ive seen people accuse Hob of being even in his modern era.

We can argue the faults of the show downplaying slavery for sure. Its a valid criticsm. We can argue that not enough time was given in the show to show that Hob had changed and regretted his former actions. We can critique these things based on what the show has and has not told us, and also pepper in information provided in the comics and what we know about future Hob panels as well.

But when it comes to the blank spaces in between frames, in between cut screens, we can do whatever we like. Because that is where meta analysis ends and fanfiction begins. You wanna write about Hob joining the abolitionist movement and fighting hard to end slavery? You can. You wanna write about him ignoring Dreams advice and continuing to be a brutal slaver right up until slavery was ended in England sure, you go for it. But don't call either of these "headcanons" meta analysis.

Dont use meta analysis as a cover to shit on fandom. The minute you resort to name calling and mockery its no longer meta. No matter how frustrated or upset you are with the current fandom situation. There is always space to criticise fandom. But ask yourself what your end goal is here? What are you trying to achieve? Is it truly because you are on a righteous path to end fandom racism? Or do you just really hate a popular ship and want people to stop shipping it? If it's the former, then focus on that, ask what solutions we can put in place? Where we can truly tackle it on a larger scale, raising awareness of things that people may not realise are racist but are common tropes in fandom (like how making female characters all mothers or sassy gay best friends is misogynistic or how certain stereotypes in fantasy creatures are anti semitic) but if its the latter, then its disingenuous to use racism in fandom as a shield to hide your ship hate. It reduces an important topic to something shallow and irrelevant.

In ending this rant I will just say this. I'm not interested in engaging further on this topic. I'm legit gonna start blocking if anyone attempts to twist my words here. The civil discussions on this matter ended when people started name calling and flinging around accusations without basis. I am more than happy to engage separately in ways to improve fandom spaces for poc, because thats important, but ship hating has no place in that discussion. Drop that aspect, and there'll be less resistance in these topics.

#rant #fandom discourse #the hob gadling matter

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theschizotypalsolilquy · 2 months

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I just know that that anon is the same person who was camping under two Jikook blogs yesterday and I don't know why y'all even waste your time on them because it's clear as day that they're just a Jungkook solo who's extremely homophobic.

It's okay to think that he's not with Jimin and that he's someone who fools around and has a high body count. Anything is possible. But to double down on the fact that "JK fucks girls" is all I need to know about that person and what their agenda really is. If the point they're trying to make is that it's unlikely for a young, handsome, successful and famous man like him to be in a committed monogamous relationship, then why is their emphasis only on the fact that he's sleeping with women? He can still be sleeping with men as well, no?

I love how they use "scandals" and that recent smoking clip of him *nonchalantly* staring at a girl for three seconds as proof that he likes pussy, but conveniently ignore all the times he's shown blatant attraction towards men over the years.

I wouldn't be surprised if anon is just a JK solo imagines herself as his future Y/N and doesn't like the fact that there are so many people who believe he possibly doesn't like women, likes men and even more so, that he's been in love with one for so many years. It shatters the illusion.

Anon should give up on coming here with some mission to make Jikookers "see the light". It's futile. There have been many like them years before, they're not the first. But what's always interesting about these people is that I've never see them camping under Taekook, Yoonmin and Vmin (when it still had people who genuinely believed they were in a romantic relationship) blogs with their theories.

I've always lurked on every side of ARMY Tumblr and I never see the other shippers getting such asks; it's always Jikookers. Which is strange considering that Jikookers aren't even nearly as loud as Taekookers or Yoonminers for them to always attract people like that.

Simple answer?

Cuz they feel threatened by a 5'9 androgynous beauty who gets heart eyes 24/7 from their solo stan.

But what they forget is that before Jimin's "glow up" (cuz dude was always hot he just matured into an ethereal being and honestly good for him) JK was still obsessed. Constantly touching and squeezing his arm muscles, the almost exorcist neck turn when Jimin would flash his abs during the choreo for "No More Dream", how when the members were asked what part of Jimin they liked the best, JK doubled down and said "all of that".

He LOVES that man. And whether they think it's platonic or romantic, some people have a problem with it. And that's horrible for them because their bond is so rare. It should be celebrated. The gods decided those two should meet, they should bond, and we are better for it. Because something like that comes along so rarely, and we are privileged to witness it.

But homophobic bitches and delusional yns ruin it. They can't accept it. I guarantee you that if those two weren't half as hot and as popular as they are, they wouldn't give a fuck. It's the audacity to them. How dare a gorgeous man love another gorgeous man? He should be getting all that pussy, spreading his seed far and wide, not settling for a man. How dare he gatekeep his own hotness??

That's how they think. And it's revolting.

#jimin #jungkook #jikook #kookmin #park jimin #jeon jungkook

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a-teacup-of-golden-cracks · 2 months

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You are saying this because you literally don't know anything about @angelbleeding

Apparently she is the self proclaimed drama queen (more like a clown) of anime community. She is a 33-year-old who picks up fight with teen girls, she is trying way too hard to act like she's still in her prime, stirring up drama with those subposts, she has kept her own anon off and writes triggering subposts about people in the intention to hurt them and get this, she turns off her anon so she can talk smack without taking any heat herself, leaving her mutuals to deal with all the hate instead but she doesn't give a rat ass about her mutuals getting harassed, she would still trigger people and stir drama when she knows her mutuals have to deal with the hate, plus she never even apologised that her mutuals are getting harassed because she is coward who can't subpost without having her own anon off. A total coward move. She even went as far as recreating someone's deactivated blog, and when she gets called out, she pulls the victim card like a pro. She has made racist joke on POC women and to top it off she asked a minor to suck her dick, but she acts so innocent and managed to fool people by playing victim every single time.

Wow! Thats a lot of accusations! Can you come off anon and provide me with some sources for them? Surely with so much evidence against this person you'd have no reason to hide on anon, right?

Or maybe you can't and need to just shut the hell up. Almost everything you just said reeks of lies even to my tired 2 am brain. "Still in her prime" prime of what? No seriously this makes no sense and I can't think of anything you could be referring to here.

If shes doing things that leave her mutuals to rot, why are they still her mutuals? And how would people even find out who her mutuals are in the first place?

For the last few accusations, it would've been so easy to provide a link to the posts, even on anon, where this happened. Don't say bullshit like "oh it was deleted" either because that means it never happened or she made a mistake and proceeded to correct it.

Good night and goodbye person who definitely isn't deadeye anon

#santanswered

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hellfiremunsonn · 3 months

Text

Stuck With Me. Eddie Munson x Reader

AN: At the end of each chapter will be a picture of ‘your’ Journal. Photos, and writing of a little bit from each chapter.

(THIS IS A REUPLOAD ALL CHAPTERS WILL BE RE UPLOADED ONE BY ONE)

I do not allow my writing to be republished anywhere other than my own blog without my consent.

WARNINGS: Nothing serious I don’t think in this first chapter.

WORDCOUNT: 2k

Chapter 1: I Made Pasta

It’s 6:35pm when you finally make it through the threshold of your shared apartment with your best friend Robin. After a terribly long shift at a coffee shop just down the road you could barely make it three steps before dropping all of your belongings and laying flat on your back on the cold hardwood floor.

Soft music from the radio in the living room echoed around and you could smell something with garlic cooking. Bare feet thumping loudly down the hallway; stopping only a few millimetres from your head. You opened one eye, squinting the other while looking up and an upside down robin. Her hair a curtain around her face.

“You didn’t even make it to the carpet today” She said, voice soft with sympathy.

You groaned and closed your eyes again, pushing out your bottom lip in a hefty pout.

“I’m making pasta, do you want any?” she asked, her footsteps retreating into the kitchen.

“Please?” you said finally sitting up off the floor. You hated complaining about working at the coffee shop because if you were being honest to anyone other than yourself, you were really lucky to have it, and really lucky to actually like the people you worked with. The past retail jobs you had with snotty coworkers, and middle-aged women forming cliques; the coffee shop was a breath of fresh air in comparison. It was just always hard. Being too nice for your own good and often got taken advantage of which leads you to constantly be overworking, and so sometimes, coming home and laying on the floor is the only thing you can manage for about twenty minutes. Ten if robins cooked something.

You and Robin have lived together for about two years now, but you’ve known her for three. You met at some shitty bar with a bunch of college kids you didn’t know and ending up sticking together and getting high in the girls bathroom. You fell in love with who she was instantly. The way she talked so quickly and passionately, her thoughts tumbling out her mouth before she could even process them. The insane amount of knowledge her brain could hold, constantly blurting facts about almost anything, being able to keep them all within relevance of the conversation was something you almost envied. She had this really good friend Steve. Steve Harrington; they had apparently gone to school together but when they showed you old pictures of them you would have never imagined them ending up as friends. They became close after working together at some ice cream shop in a mall back in their old town that apparently burnt down, and they kind of trauma bonded from that.

Steve was funny and quick witted, often called you out on your own bullshit before you even saw it. He was a delight to be around honestly and if you and Robin had an extra room you know he’d stay here. His parents are rich apparently, but he was quite adamant about paying for his own shitty apartment instead of having his parents rent out one of the nicer ones down town. He stayed down there most days.

There was another kid who came around every once in a while; Dustin… something. You could never remember his last name, but Steve looked after him like he was his younger brother. Dustin was also from Hawkins along with the other two, and it was sweet knowing they all kept in touch as often as they did seeing as they were so far from their home town, and all grown up.

You was jealous sometimes. Jealous of the life they had before, and the friendships they kept. You never had the opportunity to stay anywhere for very long. You lived with your aunt Jean, and money was hard for her. She adopted you after your mom died when you were six, even though she already had four kids of her own that she was raising. It was hard raising us as a single parent, and her kids didn’t exactly like you.

So with Jean often unable to pay rent, you moved from place to place every couple years. It gets tiring being the new kid, so when you turned eighteen you moved out here you decided to stay as long as you could; and every year you’ve been here since Robin has made it worth it. (Although you would never hold it against her, you do miss her when she goes back to Hawkins for the holidays to visit her parents)

Those first couple of years on your own were terrible until you met that chatter box of a woman named Robin.

Finally lifting yourself off of the floor you walked towards your room, putting your things away and ridding yourself of your old work clothes. Dropping them to the floor you searched through your dresser pulling out a pair of pyjama pants and an old baggy Metallica shirt. You never wore it out in public because their music wasn’t exactly your thing, but Robin had given it to you; saying it was an old friends and she didn’t want to keep it but felt guilty if she threw it away or donated it. So naturally you took it in happily. It was too comfy to throw away, so it became a regular sleep shirt.

Sliding your way back into the kitchen Robin was placing two bowls of pasta onto the counter. Grabbing both you brought them over to your little rounded kitchen table that you stuck in the corner. It was a tight squeeze but you made it work. “Have I ever told you that I love you?” you said to her with a mouthful of noodles.

She laughed and slid into the seat across from you, placing two graciously full glasses of white wine. “Once or twice, usually not through a mouthful of food, but still meaningful nonetheless” she quipped. “I am a really good cook though” She admitted.

“You are, I don’t know why Steve is always so shocked about it"

“Because I could barely make toast without setting something on fire when I was in high school"

"I just find that so hard to believe” You said. “I always picture you as this person” you gesture towards her. “Just maybe a little smaller, and maybe more shy”

“Oh I’m still shy” she pointed at you with her fork; half a noodle dangling from it.

“I know, I’ve seen the way you talk to women remember?” You laughed. “You’ve gotten better though, and you’re back together with vickie right? That’s gotta be good for something”

“Yeah I guess” Sighing she poked around her bowl.

“Trouble in paradise?” You ask while raising an eyebrow.

She rolled her eyes at the cliche phrase. “I don’t know, I think I’m just worried that maybe the break wasn’t enough for her and that she’ll realize I’m not that great and she can do better, even though I personally think were perfect for each other, I mean we literally fit together like a puzzle piece, and I don’t know how or why but we do and I-’

"Robin” You say cutting her off. “Sometimes taking a break is really beneficial for bother parties you know? Distance makes the heart grow fonder or some shit; whatever that saying is, anyways” You said swirling your hand in the air. “If vickie doesn’t see how fucking incredible you are, even now after the break, or even when she locked eyes on you for the first time, then she isn’t worth it…” You paused. “I know it’s not exactly what you want to hear, but you are more and you deserve more”

She looked up at you, eyes bleary with tears. Smiling she wiped at her eyes, a small chuckle escaping her. “You really are the best of best friends a girl could ask for” Her eyes widened at her words. “Don’t tell Steve I said that, he might have a mental breakdown”

“Oh I’m absolutely telling Steve you just said I was the bestest of best friends. I need to rub it in that little twerps face” You said grinning.

“Oh!” She exclaimed. “I told Steve we would go back with him to Hawkins on Friday for the week, because I know you’re off work, and I can take my work with me anywhere really, and Steve said that the gang really wanted to get together for the Corroded Coffin show at the bar, and I couldn’t exactly say no so” she stopped to take a deep breath. “You’re gunna see the lovely little shit hole that is Hawkins Indiana” She smiled brightly in anticipation.

You really didn’t want to spend two hours in a car to go visit a town you had never been to, to see a band you had never heard of, but you couldn’t deny the curiosity you had to finally being able to see Robins home town.

“Friday?” You asked and she nodded.

“But that’s tomorrow"

She bit her lip and gave you a pleading smile. And when your best friend gives you that ‘please do this for me I need you there and I made you noodles’ look. You just can’t say no.

"Fine” you groan. “But we’re taking my car, Steve can drive himself, I’m not getting stuck in the backseat with you and your stinky feet again"

"That was one time!” she argued.

“One time too many if you ask me” you fake annoyance.

“Also thank you, I really appreciate you coming… I didn’t want to see Vickie for the first time since the break alone, and Steve isn’t the best wingman”

“I’d kill a man for you” you said taking another mouthful of noodles. “Just give me the word baby”

“God no wonder Steve always thinks we’re secretly dating with the amount of flirting we do” she said shaking her head.

“Hey if you don’t flirt with your best friend then what’s the point in even having a best friend?”

“I don’t flirt with Steve” She pointed.

“Yeah cause you’re a lesbian Robin”

She shrugged in agreement and you both went back to eating your pasta.

Around 9pm you decided to head into your room to start packing your small suitcase. Robin said to pack something for every possible scenario, including the bad ones. Whatever that means.

It was mid July so you decided on half the clothes being okay for hot weather, and half of them being for cold weather, with a few extra cozy options for good measure. You threw an all too new looking copy of The Lord Of The Rings, on top (Something you had been meaning to read for a while) and then fumbled around for toiletries.

“Hair brush, hair ties, headband?” You questioned looking back at your dresser. It was covered in all types of jewelry and hair accessories mixed in with the endless amount of paint supplies. “Nah no headband” You decided. “toothbrush and toothpaste? I’m sure Robins parents have toothpaste…” You bit your lip. What if they were the type of people that just didn’t share toothpaste? “Whatever” You rolled your eyes.

Robin knocked lightly on the doorframe of your room.

You give her a quick glance while continuing to move around your room. She crept in and sat with her legs crossed on your bed. “You’re talking out loud again” she said reaching over to grab one of your stuffed animals, cuddling it to her chest.

“Shit” you mumbled. “I really gotta stop doing that” An embarrassing habit when you were nervous. You even used to have to grit your teeth together to stop myself from looking like a crazy person when you were out in public, but at home, it didn’t really matter all too much if Robin heard you. After a few more minutes of shoving things into your suitcase you stood back to look at it, hands on your hips. “Do you think your parents will like me?” You say abruptly looking up at Robin.

She raised a brow “Yeah probably, why?”

“I don’t know, I just don’t want them to think you’re living with some weirdo roommate"

She laughed. "They already know who you are, they don’t think you’re weird. They have me as a daughter, their perception of weird is much different than any ‘normal’ humans”

“Yeah I guess you are a big weirdo huh?” You tease.

“The best in the bizz” She said with a yawn. “Alright I’m gunna try to sleep, I’ll wake you up in the morning” Skipping out of your room and to her own she yelled a “Goodnight!” Before closing her door.

You sighed looking at the time. Not feeling tired enough to sleep yet so you decided to journal a little bit to pass the time. Scribbling doodles and words all over the pages, adding as many stickers as you saw fit. It was one of your favourite pastimes because not only did you have your own words to look back on, to remember fond moments, you always slapped a couple of Polaroids onto the pages for extra nostalgia. The process of it all was calming, and often soothed any anxieties from the day whenever you got to sit down, and glue, and tape a bunch of stuff onto the lined paper.

Finally deciding to crawl into bed before your week of 'vacation’ started. Wrapping your blanket tightly around you, shutting off all the lights except for one and closing your eyes. Naturally sleeping didn’t come easy, and you tossed and turned all night until around 12:30 am. You fell asleep sometime soon after that, adding another page to your journal in the process.

#hellfiremunsonn #hellfiremunsonn stuckwithme #Eddie Munson #Eddie Munson fic #Stranger Things #Stranger Things fic #Eddie Munson x reader #Eddie Munson x you #Stranger Things fluff #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson smut #Eddie Munson x fem reader

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leclsrc · 1 year

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Hiii, could i request a charles angst drabble like just very angsty and sort of an ambiguous ending too? maybe theyre in a secret relationship and theres infidelity involved. sorry if this is too specific, thank you thoughh :)) <3

forever ago – cl16

genre: angst, drabble

auds here... as thanks for 500 :) this a bit long for a drabble sry! some lines are borrowed frm a drabble i posted on my last blog. title from “for emma” by bon iver—a bloody good song imo. hope this does ur req justice, anon!

Your heart twists with something unfamiliar. “I don’t know what it is,” you say, frustrated. “He hasn’t talked to me.”

Over the phone, your friend’s voice is slow and reassuring. “It’s probably nothing. The last race didn’t go too well for him, so he might just be shutting himself out.”

You nod, half-convinced, still staring at Charles across the paddock. You’re dubious, because if it was anything ordinary—if it was a bad race, a DNF, a crash—he’d shield the both of you from the rest of the world. He’s engaged in conversation with Pierre and Carlos, arms crossed over his torso, eyes crinkled with a smile. You try to persuade yourself into believing your friend, but deep down, you know it’s wishful thinking. Something’s wrong, you’re sure.

You purse your lips, swallowing the lump in your throat that doesn’t leave. You feel like the rest of the world.

He’s been ignoring you for a few days, limiting communication to intermittent texts that only come if you message first. You’ve exhausted every possible reason, but nothing works. You’re left to your own devices of wondering aimlessly for excuses.

Nobody said pursuing a secret relationship would be easy, sure. But you and Charles had managed to pull it off for four years. And it wasn’t like anything was ever spoonfed to either of you—it was insanely difficult maintaining a professional journalist/driver relationship beside an intimate one. While some knew, it was still a secret from a good part of the paddock, let alone the public.

It meant sacrificing the better things of a relationship: sleeping in together, going on dates together, even holding hands. You resort to fleeting taps, lingering touches that look friendly. But you’re content. He’s yours, even in those moments.

You blink, and you wake up cold in Silverstone, even under four layers of duvet.

You scramble to find Charles, and in the mess of the sheets, it takes longer than you anticipated. You kick your legs, but they only tangle. You even lift your head up, but find the duvet has totally engulfed you. You’re half-awake now, spent with the effort it takes to find him. You need to find him, even now, even when the sky is pale blue outside and you need to leave before anyone knocks.

Like always, he finds you first. A hand takes yours, pulls, and his strength causes the obstructions to clear.

You stare into his lidded eyes. “Je te tiens,” he says, voice deep, slurred, but reassuring. You nod, heaving a sigh, almost amused by your previous bout of anxiety. Why did you ever doubt yourself? It’s Charles, you think. He’s got you.

You blink, and he’s far away again, across the paddock, distracted like he’s been so often lately. You rub the bridge of your nose, in a futile attempt to rid yourself of the dry pangs of pain there. You have a race to report. You can think of him later.

Turns out, the thoughts come sooner—just under an hour later, when you’re beside Will and using your phony reporter voice, reading off the fluorescent teleprompter text. “We’ll be inviting a few people to ask some questions on the live Formula One feed,” you say with a smile. “And our Ferrari drivers over here will get to answer some lucky fans!”

You gesture and turn to the screen beside you, still smiling. You’ll smile until your jaw aches. A fan comes on the air, a middle-aged man by the looks of it; his Texan accent permeates through the speaker and goes, “Hey Carlos and Charles, huge fan! Jus’ wanna ask, what is your favorite track this year?”

Blink, and your headache’s gone. You’re with Charles in his Monaco flat, legs swinging over the counter. He’s shirtless and cooking a grilled cheese. “I’m finally getting promoted next year,” you say, a fact you’ve reiterated about a million times tonight.

“Dunno why you’re surprised,” Charles says. “With your skill, ’twas just a matter of time, no?”

“Oh, ha ha,” you joke. “Don’t flatter me, it’s getting to my head.”

He sets the plate beside you, wedges himself in between your legs. You lean forward to rest your chin against his shoulder. “I love you,” he says into your neck. “I love you so much.”

And you blink, you’re holding your mic, Carlos is talking again, about how his favorite circuit has just got to be this and that, then the Texan fan is off the screen. It’s a few moments before the next fan fades into view, an excited and hyper teenager rattling off oh my god I love yous faster than you can count.

“So this isn’t really related to racing,” she says, her accent distinctly Californian. “I just wanted to ask if it’s true that Charles has a girlfriend? ‘Cause, well, everyone saw him with somebody last night, and…”

The world spins slowly then, when you’re staring at the screen, listening to her voice. You try to blink and distract yourself but it doesn’t work. You keep smiling. You blink. It doesn’t work. You wonder why it doesn’t work. You wonder why you have to face this on air. You wonder why you can’t blink and be gone, if just for a minute.

Above all, you wonder who he was with while you were working late last night.

You swivel in your chair and reduce your smile to a tight-lipped one. “How interesting!” You chirp.

Years of practice have done your voice justice; even if you want to scream, your voice is level, enthusiastic. Your eyes flit over to Carlos, who’s already looking at you. His brows are furrowed, mouth half-open in clear confusion. You can hear Will stuttering beside you. “Oh, I—um, how in—how splendid.”

It’s not splendid. It’s not interesting. But Charles gulps and says still, “Yes, I’m seeing someone.”

The words cut through you like shrapnel. You feel yourself fall apart, right there, trying desperately to put yourself back together. Four years, and they’re gone, on the air. You exhale, try to subtly signal for the segment to be ended early. The rest is a blur—Will carries the rest of the interview with standoffish, fake interjections and additional questions. You just smile.

How could you have been so stupid, really. To think a secret relationship would survive. If anything, it made it easier for him to do what he did. You steal a glance and his eyes are cast low, dark. He’s so far away. Is this it, you think. Everything you’d ever worked for, loved for, fought for, hidden, celebrated—is this it? For another girl? You can’t help but wonder who she is. If she was that much better, that much more alluring, that Charles thought it a good choice to throw away four years under the bus.

The feed ends before your thoughts run out, and you drop your mic onto the surface of the table, leaving the pen immediately. Will says something but you can’t decipher it. Charles follows, even if you can hear Carlos holding him back. Leave her alone, he says, and Charles says, no, I need to talk to her.

He circles a hand around your wrist, wrapping just underneath the Cartier bracelet you’d gotten to match his. The reminder makes your chest ache with a totally wrenching pain, throbbing through you as he pulls you into an empty space in between motorhomes.

“I’m sorry,” he says. He sounds desperate, solemn.

“Do you love me?” You ask weakly. And when he laces your fingers together and nods: “Then why do make me look like a fool?”

He shakes his head. “It meant nothing, cherie. I promise.”

“You’ve no right to tell me that,” you heave. Your chest is so heavy you legitimately feel like drowning. “And for me to find out on the job? I thought this whole time that I did something to you. Turns out you’re just busy fucking someone else to be kind to me. I thought you were mine, Charles. How could… how could you hurt me like this?” You don’t mean to sound so broken, but you can’t even blame yourself.

“I didn’t mean for it to happen this way.”

“But it still did,” you say simply. “I thought—I thought it was gonna be us. I thought you were the one—the one person who would never hurt me.”

You’re crying, you realize, tears running down your cheeks and onto your jaw. When his silence persists, you purse your lips, wipe the tears out of your eyes before they stream again. You can feel people staring, you can hear hushed voices, make out your friends trying to find you. “Charles,” you say wetly. “All I ever did was love you. You said you would do the same.”

This time, when you blink, you manage to picture the past clearly.

You’re in Monza, your first day on the job, a balmy day with a sea of red fans. The paddock is intimidating, crawling with people, and you’re having trouble looking for your boss. The crowd is unbelievably noisy, vibrating through the entire area. Vaguely Italian cheers erupt through the place.

You’d circled the area a couple of times but still, you haven’t placed where you need to be. You turn several times to pinpoint the landmarks, the hospitalities, the logos, but to no avail. You’re lost.

“You okay?” Someone says, with an accent just as European as everybody else’s.

“Yeah, uh—well, lost, to be honest. I need to find the media pen, ‘cause it’s my first day.”

“Right over there,” he says, smiling. His eyes crinkle, almost disappear with how big he beams. He stretches a hand out to shake yours and you take it, introducing yourself quickly. He lets his hand linger, and you smile back. You have a feeling this isn’t the last time you’ll see him.

Your heart twists with something unfamiliar. “I’m Charles.”

#f1 #charles leclerc #charles leclerc angst #charles leclerc smut #charles leclerc drabble #charles leclerc imagines #charles leclerc x reader #f1 x reader #charles leclerc imagine

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daryl-dixon-daydreams · 1 year

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Words: 4,162 Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Reader Reader pronouns: she/her Era: S10/S11, The Reapers Warnings: language, mentions of injury A/N: This is part of a series! You can find the rest on my Master List, the pinned post on my blog.

Summary: Injured and scattered, the group tries to find each other.

Your name: submit What is this?

Daryl,

Our son is two years old today. You wouldn’t believe how much he’s changed in only the last few months. It used to be that you could only make out baby babble with a few words here and there, and now he’s stringing together full sentences, expressing his own original thoughts. He looks less like a toddler every day and more and more like a little kid, soon to be asking questions about the world that will be harder and harder for me to answer. He reminds me of you in so many ways and I hold onto this part of you extra tight. When I think of how much you’ve missed of his little life, of all the milestones we’ve already passed, every part of me aches, and to know he’s missed out on having you too... that hurts even worse. I know you would be the most amazing dad. You love as fiercely as anyone could.

When I think of you at all, it nearly stops me to a grinding halt, could bring me to my knees, the pain is still that sharp. If we never find each other again, I think I’ll walk around forever with this poignant sense of something profound missing. It’s hard to write this, but if it wasn’t for DJ, I may have given up by now… But if I know anything, it’s that you’re out there somewhere, still alive, still surviving, still protecting the people you love. I know that beyond any doubt, because that’s who you are. I just hope that in our continued wandering that we find some sign of you. I don’t know what it would be—but Jen keeps telling me not to give up hope, to trust that my intuition is right.

I’m not having that dream anymore—the one I wrote about before where you’re calling for me from the other side of the glass—but lately I’ve been having a new one. I find you again, out in the woods, wandering, and then the next moment you’ve vanished. It’s almost worse than the last dream, because I think I have you and then a moment later I lose you all over again. It feels so unbelievably real. I wake up completely gutted with my cheeks wet. I have to reach for DJ every time.

God, I miss you.

It’s hitting me hard today, on DJ’s birthday. I hope you’re safe wherever you are…

With love, Y/N Daryl was mentally running through the parts of your book he’d already read, and wishing he’d made the time to read more, but he was also thanking himself for not bringing it along. He was certain The Reapers had gone through his pack. He didn’t know what would have happened if Leah had found it… She’d know he’d found you again and then all of this—his pretended disconnection from “those people on the road” and the implied feelings he was manufacturing for her—it wouldn’t have been available for him to try to keep his family and Alexandria safe.

His hand strayed to the left breast of his vest and he could feel the stiffness of the picture in the lining. It was comforting. He hadn’t slept. He was too afraid to. His mind was too busy. He laid on his back on a cot, far off in a corner, and waited.

It had to be near first light when he heard bootsteps coming up the hallway outside. He turned his ear toward the sound, listening intently for anything else that could signal what was happening.

Carver showed up in the doorway. “Get up, dickhead,” he spat. “We’re moving on that info.”

_ _ _ _ _ _

A hand on your shoulder shook you awake and you startled at the sudden jolt.

“Easy.” Negan’s voice. His hazel eyes were looking right into yours beneath his raised eyebrows. The point of your blade was at his throat.

You let out the breath you’d been holding and lowered it.

Negan was in front of you, palms out. He relaxed as your knife left his neck. “I’m a little worried that reflex isn’t going to stop short one of these times,” he said.

You shifted so you could better sit up against the back of the dingy armchair. “Then stop surprising me,” you said. You winced as you moved and couldn’t help drawing in a sharp hiss of breath between your teeth. Your side, the knife wound from The Reapers, felt like it was on fire. “Fuck…” you murmured, shifting to attempt to relieve the worst of the pain to little success.

Negan’s brow furrowed. “How ya feelin’?” You thought you could hear genuine concern in his voice.

You shook your head. “Not at my best, but I’ve had worse,” you said.

He went on frowning at you. He swept a hand back over his short hair. “I don’t doubt it but, uhh, no offense… you look like shit. I don’t think the whole pale, graying skin thing suits you at all. I woke you up because I was starting to get a little paranoid that you might not wake up.”

You rolled your eyes. “Stop being so dramatic,” you scolded him.

Negan gave you a small tight smile despite the situation. “Can’t. Drama. Theater… It’s kind of my thing,” he retorted. He watched as you pulled your shirt up to look at the wound on your side. The surrounding area and the wound itself were an angry shade of red.

Negan saw it. “Well, fuck. That doesn’t look good.”

You closed your eyes for a moment and leaned back against the chair. You’d flushed the stab wound out as best you could and applied ointment but it didn’t seem to have been enough. “No shit,” you said. “Any other earth-shattering observations you want to hit me with?”

Negan let out a dry laugh and straightened up, grabbing his crowbar from where it was leaning against a dusty couch and swinging it absently. “You know, I am actually trying to help you here. You see anybody else around?”

You sighed. “Right. Right… Sorry. Just—this whole situation is—”

“Complete and utter-fucked, five ways ‘til Friday bullshit?” Negan finished for you.

You gave him a long look but eventually nodded. “Yeah.” You pulled your shirt up again and looked at the neatly stitched wound. Negan had helped you with that the night before, and you had to hand it to him that he’d done a good job. “It’s a local infection or the start of one,” you said softly. You paused to think. You had limited medical supplies left and had used the last of the antibacterial ointment the night before patching up your side and Negan’s leg.

“Alright, so, can we kick its ass before it becomes un-local? From what I hear, that’s something to avoid, what with the lack of hospitals and meds these days.”

You chewed anxiously on your bottom lip. The burning and pulse you could feel in your whole side made it hard to think. “Hopefully…”

He stared at you for a long moment, his expression darkening like a cloud passing across the face of the moon. “You have a fever?” he asked, and you heard some apprehension in his voice.

You shook your head. “I don’t think so.” You mopped at the cold sweat on your brow even as you answered, but you were pretty sure that was just from the pain.

Negan cleared his throat and stepped closer hesitantly. “Can I check without you slitting my throat?” he asked. “I’ve actually already had that done, courtesy of Rick, and it isn’t something I’d like to repeat.”

“Fine.”

He bent his tall frame and put the back of his hand on your forehead. He shook his head and let out a hugely relieved sigh. “No. No, I think you’re good.” You gave him a questioning look. “I had the thought that maybe they’d coated their blades… so that anyone that didn’t die right away would go full-blown undead asshole.”

You fixed a steely stare on him. “Oh, you mean like you did. To the Hilltop.”

Negan gulped and his face fell. His eyes turned down to the floor. “Maggie told you about that, huh?” he said softly.

“Mhm…”

“Yeah. That was pretty fucked up.” He was still avoiding your eyes. “But it was effective...”

“Negan—” you started angrily.

“Hey, I’m just stating a fact! And to be fair, it was a fucking war! I was looking after my own the same way—” he broke off abruptly at the look on your face.

You shook your head. “No. Not the same way I do. Not the same way they were. Not even close.”

“So, you’re telling me that you’ve never done anything royally fucked up to keep yourself or people you care about alive? Hmm? Doll,” he said, swinging his crowbar up onto his shoulder, a smirk on his face, “I ain’t buyin’ it.”

You scowled at him. “Don’t call me ‘doll.’ In fact, let’s just table any more nicknames you’ve got floating around in your head. And let’s get one thing straight, Negan. You didn’t care about those people at The Sanctuary. You gave them barely enough to stay alive and it wasn’t even a life. The only person you actually gave a shit about was yourself. And have I done fucked up shit? Yeah. Plenty. To keep me and my son alive… not to set myself up as some sort of wannabe god to assuage my bloated ego,” you spat at him, wincing and putting a hand over your side again and shutting your eyes.

There was a tense pause and then Negan rubbed a hand over the back of his neck and another small laugh escaped him. “I can’t really argue with most of that. You’re right. And I see that Maggie and Daryl have been pretty thorough in catching you up already.” He sighed and sank back down on the wooden chair across the room from you. “But none of that shit matters right now. So, what do we do about your tidy little ticking time bomb there? You have any more of that—”

“No, we used almost everything up last night,” you interrupted him.

Negan laughed humorously. “Now let me make something clear here; you’ve gotta be okay,” he said emphatically. “If something happens to you while you’re with me, Daryl will fucking murder me. That is not an exaggeration. No, he won’t just murder me—he’d probably carve off little pieces slowly. He isn’t gonna hear that it wasn’t my fault. So, for your health and mine,” Negan said, fiddling with the crowbar across his knees, “we’ve got to figure this out. So, what do I need to do? You obviously can’t go anywhere fast at the moment, which is really what we need.”

Your ground your teeth together and Negan saw the muscle in your jaw tense. “You’re going to have to find me some moss and get us some water and fuel for a fire.” Negan stared at you blankly.

“Sorry, did you say fucking moss?”

You nodded. “Yeah. A specific kind. I’m gonna tell you where it grows and what it looks like.” You pulled your pack closer and dug around inside it until you pulled out a small cloth bag and held it out to him.

“Is now the right time for a scavenger hunt?” he asked, but he got up and accepted the bag from you.

“A lot of mosses have antimicrobial properties that should fight the infection and—look, just do what I’m fucking asking, okay? Or I can go myself. Like I said, I’ve had worse,” you started getting out of the chair, pushing yourself up on the arms but the pain in your side seemed to ricochet through the rest of your abdomen and chest and you quickly froze, only partially standing.

“Whoa!” Negan grabbed your upper arm and helped you lower back down into the seat. His leg didn’t feel great, but it was definitely better than your side. “I’ll get it! Fuck, just sit the fuck down,” he shook his head at you. “I can see why you and that pain in the ass Daryl are together. Stubborn with an attitude,” he said with some amusement. “Moss. Water. Fuel. I can handle that. Just tell me what I need to know…”

You did. And Negan set out and returned a couple hours later with all of it.

Soon you had a fire going in one corner near a broken-out window, any smoke trailing up and out—though you’d made sure all the fuel was dry as a bone so it wouldn’t lead The Reapers straight to you. The water had finished boiling and was sitting to cool a bit. Negan was watching you with interest from his seat again as you cleaned as much debris out of the moss as you could.

Negan was casually peeling the bark off a stick, sitting on the stiff wooden chair and watching you work. “Are you going to tell me what the deal is with you and Daryl or what?” he asked.

Your eyes flickered up to his face for a moment and you paused, completely still. Then you went back to what you were doing. “No,” you said simply.

“Ahh, come on. What the hell else are we gonna talk about? I’m dying to know how exactly he ended up having a kid he didn’t seem to know about. Especially one that looks to be about ten years old.”

You tossed the handful of debris you’d been picking out of the moss into the fire. “I’m sure you are. But you’re the last person I’m going to discuss my personal life with, Negan.”

Negan sighed and leaned back in his chair. “Come on. It’ll pass the time!”

You fixed your gaze on him for a long moment. “I’ll give you one question,” you said, dusting off your hands.

“Hot damn!” Negan grinned. “I better make it a good one… Hmm. Let’s see…” A smirk grew on his face. “So, are you guys fucking again? I mean what’s the current status?”

“Negan!” you barked back at him angrily, color flaring in your face. He only chuckled.

“It’s just a question! Anybody can see the guy is head over heels. That was obvious by the way he looked like he was mentally dismembering me anytime I came within ten feet of you.”

You only glared at him. “Do me and yourself a favor and shut the fuck up,” you growled. You collected the moss and plunged some of it into the still warm water and let it soak for a few seconds. Then you removed it and wrung most of the water out. Negan watched with interest as you packed it over the wound in your side and secured it around your body with a long makeshift bandage you’d fashioned from a spare flannel you’d had stowed in your pack.

“That’s gonna fight off infection?” Negan asked, interested. “Seems counter-intuitive to stick some dirty shit you found outside right over a wound.”

“It’s not dirty. And yes, hopefully. Long before we had modern medicine, plants were doing what doctors and pills used to,” you said, climbing to your feet and sinking back into the armchair again with a sigh.

“How the hell did you learn this?” Negan asked, digging in his pack for his MRE and tearing off the top.

You shrugged. “Aren’t we all picking up new things all the time? One of my people, from my last community, knew a lot about medicinal and edible plants. I paid attention.”

Negan nodded, scooping another bite into his mouth. “So, we gotta just wait now?”

You nodded. “Just have to let it do its job.” You sunk back more heavily into the chair and closed your eyes, but they were only shut a moment before Negan’s voice broke the silence again.

“You’re really not going to tell me about you and Daryl?”

Your eyes opened. “No. I’m not.”

He sighed. “What if I tell you about my wife?” he said softly.

Your brow furrowed. “Which one?” you asked sharply.

“The real one.”

_ _ _ _ _ _

The next morning, you woke up gently. Negan was already awake, standing at one of the dingy windows, staring thoughtfully outside. He turned when he heard you shifting. “You’re looking better,” Negan commented.

You stood and moved without pangs of pain and sighed with relief. Unbinding your bandage and peeling the poultice from the wound, you saw that the redness was gone and it was no longer inflamed. The moss had done its job. You applied fresh, dry moss over the stitches and rebound the bandage.

Negan wandered over, watching you closely. “You good?”

You looked up and nodded. “Yeah.” You paused. “Thanks. For your help yesterday with getting all that stuff.” He nodded once. You slung your pack up onto your shoulder. “Come on. We’ve gotta get to that house. Maybe the others are waiting there.”

“You can’t be serious,” Negan said, nearly stepping in your way as you moved toward the door. “You want to keep going? We don’t even know if anyone else made it.”

You started to unbarricade the door with a grunt of effort. “They did,” you said matter-of-factly.

Negan shook his head. “You don’t know that.”

“Yes, I do!” you snapped at him, standing up straight. For the first time, Negan saw something like desperation in your eyes. “They made it,” you said firmly, but he heard the shake in your voice. “Now, help me move this…”

Negan looked at you for a long moment and then sighed and pushed the heavy oak desk out of the path of the door.

_ _ _ _ _ _

Maggie, Gabriel, and Elijah waited in silence. The air was heavy with anxiety and Maggie found herself alternately pacing the length of the room and then standing frozen at the window, peering out through the wooden slats. Through the narrow space, she saw figures moving on the street outside but it was difficult to see through the leaves of the shrubs close to the house. “I got movement comin’ up on this side.”

Elijah stood and went to another window near the front door. His knife was in his hand.

“Oh my God. Oh, thank God,” Maggie suddenly sighed. “It’s alright. It’s Negan and Y/N,” she said, happy tears in her eyes.

A moment later, Elijah pulled the door open and the two of you stepped into the dilapidated interior, Maggie rushed over and grabbed you in a hug. “Thank God you’re alright,” she said.

You tightened your free arm around her, bow in your hand at your other side. “You too. All of you,” you said, looking at Elijah and Gabriel as she broke away, but at the same moment your heart sank. “Daryl?” you asked, your brow furrowing and casting a shadow over your momentary relief at seeing the others.

Maggie shook her head. “We don’t know. We haven’t seen Daryl or Frost. Alden’s hurt bad. I left him someplace safe,” she said, her voice breaking. “Agatha. Duncan. They’re gone...”

You hung your head and closed your eyes for a long moment. “Fuck…” Your knuckles shone white as you gripped riser of your bow hard. “Goddammit… I’m so sorry.”

She nodded solemnly and then scrutinized you and Negan more closely. “How are you two?”

You moved farther into the house and stood beside the small stash of supplies. “We took a little damage but I think we’ll be fine. What’s the plan?” you asked, getting straight back to your purpose.

“We’ll wait a little longer for Daryl and Frost, in case they’re tryin’ to get here. But then we have to move. It’s not too far to Meridian from here.”

Negan let out a small scoff and paced away in a small circle, rubbing a hand over his forehead.

Maggie bristled. “Somethin’ you wanna say?”

“Maggie, look at us. We’re hurt. There are only four of us. One more encounter like the one we just had and that number is going to drop to zero.”

“People back home are dependin’ on us. Hungry kids. If we can’t make this work, Alexandria is done.”

Negan sighed and leaned back against the wall, but he stayed quiet.

“So, unless you’ve gotta somethin’ helpful to add, just keep your mouth shut for once in your life,” she snapped at him.

“Hey—” Elijah said suddenly. “Something’s up.” _ _ _ _ _ _

The heavy bootsteps overhead seemed to press on your ear drums as the Reapers moved through the house. Your heart was hammering in your throat. Then suddenly—Daryl’s voice. You clapped a hand over your mouth to stop yourself from gasping with relief. Alive. He was alive. He was okay. But then your stomach plummeted into the pit of your stomach. But why was he with them?

It didn’t take long for you to realize what was going on. A voice. A woman. “You’re either with us, or you’re not.” Leah. It had to be Leah. It was the only thing that made sense.

Your chest tightened and it was harder for you to draw in even shallow breaths. You closed your eyes, straining your hearing. Daryl again. “What do you want me to do?”

Then it was obvious; Daryl was dropping as much info as he could to you hiding below. 20 people. Weapons. Supplies. Walls. And then he was picking a fight on purpose with this “Carver” asshole.

“Shaw. Wake. Up. Everything is a test now,” Carver spat. “If you think this guy is ever going to give a shit about any of us, you’re gonna fail.”

“He’s right,” Daryl said quickly. “I don’t give a shit about any of you. Except you.” You felt a sharp pain between your lungs. “I’m here for you. It’s no secret I made mistakes. But I’m here right now.”

You were trying to suppress a rising wave of nausea. You could feel Maggie and Negan looking your way and you ducked your eyes, kept them down-turned to the cement of the cellar floor. A second later, Maggie touched you on the sleeve and tilted her head toward the cellar door. With Daryl distracting Leah and Carver, you snuck away, but the painful bubble in the middle of your chest stayed with you.

When you were finally safely away from the town the Reapers had been combing, Maggie stopped all of you. “We can stop for a minute,” she said, out of breath just like the rest of you from rushing through the woods. “We’re getting’ close. About three miles out.”

Negan let out a disbelieving laugh again, but you silenced him with a look. Maggie turned to you and touched you on the arm and spoke to you in a soft undertone. “You know Daryl was only sayin’ those things to—”

“I know,” you interrupted her, nodding, but your face was downturned. It still felt like a knife was lodged upward between your lungs. Listening in on that, Daryl saying those things to another woman, to her, had been excruciating. You hadn’t even realized how much so until you were out of the immediate danger. They seemed to ring in your head. “I’m here for you.” “I made mistakes.”

Maggie frowned softly. “Y/N, you and DJ are his whole life. I was there. I saw it. I saw how he was after. We almost lost him when he lost you. And then he never gave up on you. He never stopped searchin’. Whoever she is, she’s nothin’ to him compared to you. Believe that. Trust it.”

You gulped and nodded again and managed to give her a forced smile, though the worry line stayed between your brows. “What’s the plan for taking care of these assholes?”

You all turned as sticks cracked nearby. Walkers were wandering in. Everyone fingered their weapon but Maggie stopped you. “Wait,” she said, looking at more following behind out of the trees. She glanced back at the group of you. “Think we can find more?”

#daryl dixon #daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon twd #the walking dead #twd fanfics #daryl dixon drabbles #daryl imagines #daryl x y/n #fanfics #writers of tumblr #twd drabbles #daryl x you #twd reader insert

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theboredinsomniac · 1 year

Text

Maybe in Wonderland • part 1

pairing: dbf!Joel Miller x reader

summary: You get your dream internship for the summer so your parents throw a little party to celebrate the news. While you have your eyes on a guy from the neighborhood, Joel tries to convince you that maybe he's not the best choice for you.

warnings: age gap (reader in early 20s, Joel in late 40s), no outbreak

word count: 2k

story masterlist

note: I created a secondary blog to get back into the writing game. What do you think? This is a slow burn so far. I don't know how slow it's gonna be.

You knew that Joel Miller had been stuck in his empty nest syndrome ever since his daughter Sarah moved out after graduating from college two years ago. Since then, he and your father had spent a lot of time together, mostly because his younger brother was more focused on his new wife, Maria, so they didn't hang out as much as they used to.

Your father had been trying to convince him to go out more, meet new people, meet nice women, and take them out on dates. Hell, his own brother even lured him to a double date with a friend of Maria's, but Joel was not interested.

If there was one thing anyone should know about this man is that ever since it became crystal clear for everyone that he wasn't about to get back into the dating game, women had been throwing themselves at him left and right, taking conquering his heart as a challenge. He was in his late forties, hair and beard already graying, but it only made his Southern charm even more appealing.

Yes, you also found him handsome, and yes, you did toy with the idea of what you would do if you ever had him in your grasp. All this despite the big age difference, as you were still going to university, and that you were a few years younger than his daughter. It would have been weird to have anything to do with him, and you doubted he saw you as anything other than a daughter figure, so you put this thought aside.

Things changed a year later, when your dad threw a party for a few family friends to celebrate your summer internship at a big consulting firm. There was a truly hot guy you've been flirting with for a while who was supposed to attend as well, so you put on your best dress, added some light makeup, then went down to the backyard to mingle with the crowd, hoping he would show up as promised.

At one point, as you poured yourself a drink, you noticed Joel watching you while he was talking to someone, his eyes scanning your body with no shame. At first you thought you were wrong, that you were imagining things, but then he flashed a strange, almost flirtatious smile at you before turning his attention back to the couple he was talking to.

It wasn't all that new. There had been innocent touches during conversations, bear hugs that were warmer than the ones your friends gave you, but your brain always labeled them as acts of kindness, not as flirting. What if you've been wrong all along? Shaking your head, you tried to get this out of your mind. No. He was just friendly.

“Here you are,” Scott said when he stopped next to you with a hand resting comfortably on the small of your back.

You didn't even try to hide the wide smile that showed on your lips upon hearing his voice. “I was beginning to think you wouldn't come,” you lied with a laugh as you touched his upper arm. “But I'm glad you're here.”

Scott looked down at you with those adorable hazel eyes of his, taking in every little detail of your face as if that was the first time he saw you from up close. “I wouldn't miss this. Congrats again. You deserved that spot,” he told you with a smile that matched yours.

Things were so easy with him. The conversations were seamless with no awkward silences, and the way he looked at you gave you butterflies. He was working at a law firm, and he had a wonderful career ahead of him based on the reviews he got from his boss.

You were both career-driven, a trait you truly appreciated about him because this way he understood why you were so keen on getting a good job at a good firm during the summer and after college. Your parents loved him, especially your mom, who was already complaining about Scott dancing around you without asking you out on an official date. You didn't care. He just needed time.

“So how are things going at work? I haven't heard from you in a while,” you said with a dramatic pout.

He looked down at you tight-lipped, as if he was trying to decide how to answer you without saying something he shouldn't. You wondered what it was all about, but all of your worries were blown away when he said, “Tough cases we're working on. I'm not happy about who we're defending, but that's part of the job, I guess.”

For a moment you were afraid to find out he had a secret girlfriend. How silly of you. “That must be hard. But I'm sure you'll handle it,” you told him cheerfully.

“Hey, I'll go say hi to an old neighbor then I'll come back and find you, okay?” he suddenly said as he waved to someone behind your back.

“Sure,” you replied with a kind smile. “I'm not going anywhere.”

Once he left, you gravitated toward your parents, seeking comfort in the familiar faces while you waited. As you took a sip of your drink, you noticed the look your mother was giving you, the silent inquiry about your conversation with Scott. You shook your head and turned your attention to the ongoing conversation.

After a minute or two, one of the neighbors in that circle turned to you and said, “Your parents are pretty proud of you. But I can't blame them, I wish my daughter was more like you,” she said with a sigh that made your father laugh.

“Oh, did I arrive just in time for praising her?” you suddenly heard Joel's raspy voice before you felt his arm wrap around your shoulder.

You blushed, not at all happy about this sudden wave of attention from everyone. Sure, it was a party your parents threw to celebrate you, but you didn't expect people to actually care about it. And here was Joel, sounding excited to join the conversation.

Maybe a little too excited.

“I was just saying that her parents have every reason to be proud of her,” that neigbor who had talked before enlightened Joel.

He looked down at you with a wide grin. “Aren't we all proud?” he asked, his hand gently squeezing your shoulder. “I always knew she was the smart one in the family–no offense,” he added with a wide smile as he turned to your parents.

Your father waved his hand nonchalantly. “None taken, especially when you're saying the truth,” he said.

All this praise was getting to your head, so you looked up at Joel and went, “How's Sarah? Does she like her new job?”

The sudden change of topic surprised him, but his features quickly softened as he thought of his daughter. “She loves it. I know everything about what she does and what her co-workers are up to thanks to her detailed reports,” he replied proudly.

You couldn't help but smile at this. You hoped you could tell your parents just as much about your summer job when you get to it, and that they would be just as supportive and proud as Joel was with Sarah. Your relationship was wonderful with your parents, but work hadn't been something you discussed among yourselves before.

“I'll go get another beer,” you said when you noticed your cup being empty.

Joel raised the bottle he had in his hand and noted that it was also empty with a long sigh. “Guess I'll need another one, too. Come on,” he told you, guiding you towards the house.

The two of you walked in silence with Joel's hand still resting on your shoulder as he navigated through the small groups of people with ease. He only let go of you when you reached the empty kitchen and he opened the fridge to get two bottles from it. Meanwhile you were one step ahead, waiting for him with an opener in hand.

“Thanks,” was all Joel said before he leaned against the kitchen island and took a sip of his drink, his eyes fixed on you.

You tried to enjoy your drink, but your thoughts were bouncing around in your brain as you thought of Scott possibly looking for you in one moment, then about the way Joel's eyes were burning a hole in you in the other.

You wanted to be out in the backyard again, just to see if he really was looking for you, but at the same time you wanted to stay inside and find out what was up with the man in front of you. It was confusing, and you really didn't know what to do.

“What's going on between you and that Scott kid?” he suddenly asked. You raised a brow, trying to decide if you heard him right. Was it him asking, or was he just voicing your parents' question? “I saw you two being deep in a conversation.”

Taking a deep breath before exhaling slowly, you thought about how to answer it. There wasn't much to say since he was keeping his distance. “Nothing, really,” you replied with a hint of disappointment in your voice.

Joel picked up on it, because he put down the bottle and crossed his arms over his chest. “Maybe it's better this way,” he noted quietly, earning a confused look from you. “He's known for being a player. I don't know what he told you, but he has a new girlfriend every other week. His mother is so done with his behavior that she has been bugging him about settling down finally.”

You could feel a panic attack crawling closer and closer to you as you listened to Joel. Could it be true? Sure, you remembered seeing him with different girls when he still lived at home with his parents, but that was three years ago, he probably changed since then. He had a serious job, it surely changed him.

“You don't believe me?” he asked with a frown, looking slightly offended.

Shaking your head, you said, “It's not that I don't believe you, I just… I don't know. I kinda want to see where this could go.”

Joel closed the small gap between you and stood only one step away from you. “He doesn't deserve you. He might seem like a good catch, but trust me, he's not. You deserve better,” he added softly with a look in his brown eyes that you couldn't really decode.

You gulped then nodded. What else were you supposed to do? Licking your lips, you broke eye contact and looked down at your shoes, your heart beating a mile a minute. Things only got worse when he reached out to swipe a strand of hair behind your ear.

For the second time tonight you thought he was flirting with you. Something told you that his words could be translated to him being a better choice than Scott, but at the same time your rational mind was trying to convince you that you were dead wrong. He wouldn't flirt with you. You were to young for him.

Right?

When you looked at him again, you noticed that his lips were slightly parted as he watched you, seemingly lost in his thoughts. You didn't know how much time passed with the two of you looking at each other in silence, but it didn't really matter. You were too afraid to move, to break whatever spell this was, and you wanted to see what his next move would be.

“I shouldn't. Fuck,” he suddenly muttered to himself as he buried his hand into his hair and walked away from you.

You were frozen to your spot by the counter, having a hard time understanding what he was talking about. “You okay?” you asked innocently, as if your underwear wasn't already soaking because of the tension between the two of you.

Joel looked at you, fingers pinching the bridge of his nose as he shook his head. “Yeah, everything's great,” he replied, obviously lying. “I'm sorry. I should go home.”

Nodding, you bit on your lower lip and watched as he walked outside, probably looking for your parents to say goodbye. And there you were, leaning against the counter as you tried to slow down your heart rate. What the hell had just happened?

#joel miller x reader #joel miller #joel miller x you #dbf!joel miller #dbf!joel #pedro pascal #the last of us #tlou #the last of us hbo #tlou hbo

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thefallennightmare · 1 year

Text

Moment of Weakness-nine

*credit to whoever created the gif. found on google/Pinterest *

Pairings: Mob!Bucky Barnes x reader

Warnings: language, smut, angst, fluff, affair, cheating, violence.

Summary: Reader is the assistant to New York's most feared mob boss, James Buchanan Barnes. He had the picture-perfect life: status in the mob, friends, and beautiful wife. So why can't he keep his mind and eyes off of reader?

Authors Notes: Happy Birthday Bucky Barnes. We all love you <3

Tags(open): @splendidreads @sebsgirl71479 @mdpplgtz03 @pattiemac1 @unaxv @elizacusi-blog @alana4610 @broadwaybabe18 @themayzittcha @playboystark @raajali3 @ozwriterchick @ragamuffin285 @screamingdying @themorningsunshine @kenziekugler22 @calwitch @sebastianstansqueen @stanaddict @stucky-simp03 @sleyeveryday @loustan90 @lyra-black13 @valsworldofcreativity @cjand10 @tesseract69 @batprincess1013 @subwaysurf45 @arsonfrogger @winters1917 @yoruse @5moremin @lipstickandtanqueray @mandijo17

The office was eerily quiet, almost as if I was the only one here but I knew that wasn’t the truth. The closed door behind me said that he was inside with Steve, as they had their morning private meeting with each other. I didn’t let my mind wander too far from the work in front of me because I knew I would be here all day and night if I allowed that to happen.

I had taken the last few days off after my night with Bucky because I couldn’t face him, afraid that my job was on the line. Thankfully it wasn’t, Bucky made sure of that when I returned to work this morning. We still haven’t seen each other, me coming in while he was in that said meeting with Steve, so I could breathe for a little while. He had a list placed on my desk this morning of what he needed me to do.

-Pick up dry cleaning-done

-pick up lunch order

-reply to emails-currently working on

-file away papers

-meet with me to talk about what you missed the last few days.

The last thing on the list I had purposely avoided, not wanting to face Bucky yet. He could have actually wanted to talk about what I missed, work wise, or he could want to talk about what happened between us. And that, I wasn't ready for.

While I was home, “sick”, all I could think about was that night we shared. Bare, sweaty, bodies moving in tangent with each other. Our movements almost like a slow dance with our moans acting as the music. My entire body felt on fire as those flash images crossed my mind and I bit my lip, wanting to feel him inside me again. Bucky’s lips kissing every inch of skin and leaving his marks all over, days later they still shined bright.

I did my best to cover them, however, the one on my neck was a bit hard to cover.

The door clicked open behind me and I stood straighter, trying to block out those memories and continued my work.

“Hey, you’re back.”

I looked up towards Steve and gave him a smile, the guilt eating away at my heart. I knew how he felt about me and with how close we became, I couldn’t stop the way I felt so guilty with what happened.

“Uh, yeah. I had a small cold but feeling a lot better,” I lied.

Steve smiled while slicking his hair out of his face. “Well, let me know when you head out to grab lunch and I’ll come with you.”

“Sure,” I nodded. “Oh, Sam is in your office waiting for you. Mentioned something about an errand you two had to run.”

Steve gave my shoulder a squeeze before walking into his own office and left the door opened ajar slightly.

“Y/N?”

I turned in my chair towards Bucky and my heart began to beat so fast that I couldn’t catch my breath as he stared at me with his bright eyes.

“Need something?” I asked.

“How are you feeling?”

Bucky knew that I had been lying about why I stayed home but didn’t bother to mention it, only keeping up my ruse.

“Better, thanks for letting me take some time off,” I said.

He nodded while stuffing his hands deep into his pockets. “Of course. Do you think maybe we could talk?”

I quickly shook my head. “I’ve got a lot of work to catch up on. Can we do it later?”

Bucky’s shoulders fell but he nodded again. “Sure. Over lunch?”

“Yeah, lunch,” I muttered before turning back to my work and did my best to ignore Bucky’s intense eyes.

With Bucky back behind his own desk, I didn’t miss the way he kept gazing out towards me every so often. There even had been a few times that our eyes would lock and I quickly averted from it.

Before I knew it, lunch had approached and while I gathered my things to go pick up everyone’s order from the deli down the block, the door to the building opened and her happiness radiated the walls and I sucked in a breath, not thinking I would have to face her yet.

“Natasha, hi,” I forced a smile. “I didn’t know you were coming in today.”

Her smile only amplified her beauty and I felt jealous because I knew that I alone couldn’t be enough for Bucky. What we had was a one time thing, it would never be more than that.

“I’m only here for a few minutes and I’m here to see you.”

My heart began to beat faster and I swallowed thickly. “About what?”

Fear set in that she found out about Bucky and I.

“Bucky is having some of his mob friends over tonight and I thought it would be a great way to make it a party. But then I realized it would be rude to not invite you,” Natasha said.

“Oh,” I muttered.

I racked my brain to figure out an excuse not to go tonight. The guilt I felt around her and Bucky had become a sharp knife in my back that I knew if I went tonight, it would only twist it deeper.

“Thank you for the invite but I don’t think I’ll be able to make it,” I lied yet again.

Natasha frowned. “I understand, I thought we could use this night to get to know each other better. You’re working with my husband and I realized that I know nothing about you.”

My brow raised at her voice. There was something hidden underneath the tone that I didn’t quite understand.

Was she jealous that I worked so close with Bucky?

Did she think something was going on between us?

Or did she know exactly what happened and she was using tonight to call me out on it?

“Ready for lunch?” Steve walked out of his office but gave Natasha his attention. “Hey, Nat. Need me to bring anything tonight?”

She nodded towards me. “Maybe Y/N. I’ve invited her but she said she can’t make it.”

I bit my cheek at her persistence.

“Yeah, I’ve got a lot of laundry to catch up on from being sick the last few days.”

Steve gave me a look and I knew he saw straight through my lie.

“Or maybe she has a hot date tonight,” Natasha observed while pointing to her neck.

I quickly rubbed a hand over the mark on my own neck, embarrassed that she had noticed.

Steve shifted on his feet. “Do you?”

“It’s nothing,” I shook my head while avoiding his gaze.

Natasha snickered. “If you have a hook up planned tonight, Y/N, that’s all you have to say. You don’t need to lie. By the looks of it, it seemed like a good time.”

“I should really go pick up our lunch,” I spoke.

I refused to stand there any longer and get grilled by Natasha on what happened with Steve watching me with hurt in his eyes.

As if the Gods above wanted to torture me even more, Bucky walked out of his office and looked between the three of us, questioning in his own eyes.

“What’s going on?” He wondered.

Natasha placed a kiss on his cheek and I shifted uncomfortably, something Steve noticed immediately. He looked between Bucky and I, his lips falling open slightly but said nothing.

“I wanted to invite Y/N tonight but she said she can’t come. I think she has a date planned and she’s keeping it a secret,” Natasha filled Bucky in.

“Oh, you do?” Bucky questioned with brows raised.

I rubbed at the mark on my neck. “I don’t.”

“So come tonight! Steve will be there to keep you company,” Natasha nudged Steve’s shoulder.

He refused to meet my gaze at first but eventually looked at me. “It’ll be more fun if you come.”

“Steve’s right,” Bucky spoke.

My tired gaze fell on him once more.

“Come by tonight, even if it’s for an hour. Nat put this huge party together and it would mean a lot to her,” Bucky continued.

I gnawed on my lip and reluctantly agreed. “Of course, for Natasha.”

She beamed brightly while she clapped her hands together. “Perfect, it starts at eight and Steve will send you the address.”

“Wonderful,” I grumbled as I gathered my things.

I didn’t bother to wait for Steve, who made no effort to follow, as I hurriedly walked away from the three of them, Bucky continuing to watch me intently.

The bass from the outdoor speakers vibrated against the bones in my body as I took a small sip of my drink, eyes scanning around the small party. My interpretation of small was different than Natahsa’s. There had to be at least of a hundred people in the backyard of their mansion, not counting whoever was inside.

I arrived almost twenty minutes ago and even with one drink in, I was ready to leave. This was the last place I wanted to be tonight. Steve wasn’t anywhere in sight and neither was Bucky. I knew no one here and felt so out of place.

“Thinking of a way to escape?”

I turned towards the deep voice and breathed in relief.

“I’d be lying if I said this was my kind of scene,” I admitted to Steve.

He took a large drink from the beer in his hand. “Let’s give it an hour then we can head to my place for pizza and a movie?”

A smile broke out on my face. “I would really like that.”

We talked, just the two of us, for a while and it helped keep my mind from wandering where Bucky was. I could have asked Steve but didn’t want to ruin the lightness of our conversations. At some point, Sam came up to join us and for the first time in a few days, I felt myself again.

Goosebumps pricked over my skin as I felt someone staring and I peered over my shoulder and felt my breath hitch at the sight. Bucky was standing a few feet from us and watching my every movement with a small smile pulling at his lips. His jacket looked warm and inviting, almost pulling me towards him, but I kept my feet planted firmly by Steve and Sam. Even with his smile, the sadness in Bucky’s eyes made my heart fall.

“I need another drink,” I said suddenly, hoping that the change of position would stop the burning I felt in my core as I continued to look at Bucky.

I didn’t bother to wait for Steve and Sam and scurried over towards the outdoor bar and gave my order with a smile. As I waited, fingers drumming over the wood, a body slid up behind me. Warm breath fanned over my ear and I shivered with desire with his deep voice.

“You look beautiful.”

I did my best to hold my composure by ignoring his compliment.

“Thank you,” I smiled at the bartender as he handed me my drink.

I went to walk past Bucky but his vibranium fingers grasped at my hand to stop me. Our fingers linked for a few seconds before I removed them.

“Don’t,” I warned in a hush tone in case others around us could hear.

“Can we talk, please?” He begged.

I motioned towards his right hand which held a cigarette. “Since when do you smoke?”

He sighed. “Only when I’m stressed.”

“What could you possibly be stressed out about?” I scoffed.

Bucky nodded behind me to Steve and I gave him a firm poke into his chest. “You do not have the right to get jealous of me talking with Steve. I told you that nothing happened between us.”

“I know,” Bucky said.

“Also, I don’t want to be with anyone who smokes.” I stated with arms crossed.

He tossed it to the ground, crushing the cigarette underneath his boot. “All the more reason to quit. But can we talk in private?”

I shook my head. “There’s nothing to talk about, Bucky. What happened shouldn’t have, you’re married. It was a moment of weakness between us. That’s it.”

“Not for me,” Bucky disagreed.

“This cannot happen again,” I pointed between us. “You need to focus on Natasha.”

“Doll,” he breathed. “You can’t tell me that night didn’t mean something to you. All I can think about is you and how I want to kiss you again.”

“Don’t!” I seethed, gaining attention from a few people around us.

I looked around and cursed under my breath, realizing that this wasn’t the place or time to talk about this, even if I didn’t want to.

“I’m out of here,” I muttered under my breath, walking away from him.

A bit later, I stared at myself in the bathroom mirror, taking deep breaths to calm myself. This was the main reason why I didn’t want to come tonight. I knew that Bucky would want to talk and I’d eventually fall back into him because my feelings for him were that intense and deep.

“Get a hold of yourself, Y/N. He’s a married man.” I groaned to myself as I shut off the light, leaving the bathroom.

Suddenly a small yell from my lips as I felt myself being pulled into a dark room, body pinned to the wall behind me. Even in the darkness, I noticed the bright eyes immediately and let out a deep breath, knowing that he was the reason I was in the room.

“Bucky-” I started.

I was cut off by his lips attacking mine hungrily and after I froze for a second, I melted into him and both of our lips moved together. I moaned into his mouth when his tongue pressed onto mine, my hands snacking around his neck to bring him closer.

His arms rested underneath the swell of my ass and lifted me into his arms, legs wrapping around him. I felt him leading me towards somewhere in the room and my body was gently placed on what I assumed was a couch, Bucky never breaking the kiss. There was a hint of cigarette smoke on his breath but it was overpowered by the beer I had tasted on his lips.

Bucky’s hips rutted into mine, the hardness of his cock pressing into my thigh, and I bit his lip, wanting more.

“Stop,” I pushed him away, realizing what we were doing.

He cupped my cheek but I rolled out from under him, standing to my feet.

“God, why did you do that!” I bellowed.

Bucky leaned back into the couch with a sigh. “I can’t stop thinking about you, Y/N. The first time I tasted you, I needed more.”

“I told you, you can’t! It’s not right!” I yelled, the confines of the room we were in blocking it out from whoever was outside.

“You want this too, doll. The way you kissed me said it all,” Bucky raised to his feet and reached for me.

I smacked his hands away. “Of course I fucking want it, Bucky! All I want is you but I can’t because again, you’re fucking married!”

He ran a hand over his chin. “Please stop reminding me.”

“It’s the truth!”

Bucky’s lips were on mine yet again but this time, I was stronger and pushed him off, smacking him in the chest.

“Stop!”

“I can’t,” Bucky almost whined. “I can’t stay away from you, Y.N.”

I stared at him while my chest rose and fell with each deep breath as the decision mulled in my mind.

“You need to try.”

I left him behind, even if my mind was screaming to go back to him.

#mob!bucky barnes #mob!bucky barnes x reader #mob!bucky barnes and reader #mob!bucky barnes x yn #mob!bucky barnes and yn #mob!bucky barnes reader insert #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes and reader #sebastian stan #moment of weakness-mob!bucky barnes

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